by Stella Riley
‘No.’ A frown entered his eyes. ‘Did she?’
‘Yes. She was sitting at your side, very carefully not watching what I was doing … but that didn’t stop her dropping off the bed in a dead faint.’
‘She has a weak stomach?’ he asked, his tone deliberately careless.
‘Not usually. But then, at the time, she thought you might die.’
He now knew exactly what she was telling him and it caused something in his chest to tighten – though whether from joy or dismay, he didn’t know. He said, ‘I’m sorry for that. It is … it’s good of her to care about a mere lodger.’
Her glance said that calling himself a ‘mere lodger’ was definitely over-doing it.
‘Yes. Isn’t it? So when she apologises for not immediately understanding your needs correctly – and she will – you’ll make it easy for her. And don’t make the mistake of looking for hidden meanings. Athenais’s artifice is all reserved for the stage.’ Pauline dropped the dirty dressing into the bowl of water and stood up. ‘I’ve been keeping visitors to a minimum but Francis has wanted to speak to you since yesterday. Shall I tell him he can come up?’
‘I suppose you’d better. Jem, too, if he’s here. They’ll both want chapter and verse on what happened the other night – so I suppose I might as well get it over with.’
Pauline eyed him narrowly.
‘Why don’t you want to talk about it?’
‘In most respects, because there are only three points worth mentioning,’ he shrugged. ‘I was attacked; I was wounded; I’m not dead. It hardly makes riveting telling, does it?’
‘Don’t they say that the devil is in the detail?’
‘And it is. Which is why I generally say that, unless there’s a very good reason to share them, most details are best kept to oneself.’
* * *
Francis and Jem entered the room to find Ashley shaved, wearing a clean shirt and looking rather more like Colonel Peverell than they’d expected. Unsmilingly, he told Jem to shut the door and indicated that they should both make themselves comfortable. Francis lounged on the end of the bed; Jem perched on the window-seat.
‘You already have the gist of what happened,’ said Ashley. ‘You’ll also have worked out that it was probably at the behest of d’Auxerre because one of the assailants was his creature. I don’t know who the other two were but we can assume they fall into the same category. The fellow who survived may still be having difficulty walking since I did my best to relocate his balls. If you come across someone like that it might be worth asking a question or two – but we’re unlikely to be that lucky.’ He looked at Jem. ‘Henri de Vauvallon, the man Cyrano killed, was of particular interest. Yellow hair, an earring and fancier clothes than you see on most women.’
‘Ah.’ Jem grunted. ‘Him.’ And then, ‘Pity.’
‘Exactly.’
Francis looked from one to the other of them and said, ‘I’m obviously missing something. And though I’m aware that the two of you have your secrets --’
‘This isn’t personal, Francis. Ned Hyde asked me to look into something and demanded total discretion. Jem has been helping me but even he has no idea exactly what we’re looking for and why. Present circumstances, however, mean that this will have to change.’
‘Dear me,’ drawled Francis. ‘Does this mean that Jem and I are to be allowed into the secret? How delightful.’
Ashley hadn’t seen that particular incarnation for some time and, just now, he found it intensely irritating.
‘If we could dispense with the theatricals, I’d be grateful. The position is this. Hyde received a communication suggesting that there is proof that the King married Lucy Walter. I, personally, doubt this because I don’t believe there was any marriage. But naturally, if such a document does exist – even if it’s a forgery – Hyde wants it in his own possession rather than Cromwell’s. And so, in the absence of any better ideas, Jem and I have been keeping an eye on Mistress Walter’s visitors – of whom the late Monsieur de Vauvallon was one. This might have been helpful information if only the wretched fellow wasn’t dead.’
‘Helpful how?’ asked Francis. And then, with faint impatience, ‘I’m assuming you’ve been keeping a watch on the exquisite Lucy because you suspect she’s been careless with her papers. But from what you’ve said so far, you’ve nothing significant to show for it. I think I can suggest something better than that.’
Jem snorted quietly to himself but Ashley said, ‘What? The whole thing has the appearance of a wild goose chase so I’m willing to clutch at any straw – however feeble.’
Francis smiled and said simply, ‘Celia.’
‘Ah. I withdraw my last remark.’
‘Don’t be hasty. Celia is friendly with Lucy Walter. And both being fairly stupid women, all they do when they get together is gossip. I wouldn’t be surprised if Celia couldn’t provide us with a list of every man Lucy has … entertained … for the last year.’
‘Sure about that, are you?’ asked Jem sceptically. ‘She ain’t been visiting that I knows of.’
Ignoring this, Ashley looked at Francis, his expression thoughtful but unconvinced.
‘I’d got the impression that you and Celia weren’t currently on the best of terms – and that your stage debut would effectively destroy any residual goodwill.’
‘And it will – when she recognises me. So far she hasn’t looked under the helmet.’
This time Jem laughed outright.
Sighing, Ashley said, ‘Thank you Jem. I think we can agree that that might have been better put.’ And to Francis, ‘She’s seen the Mariamne?’
‘Twice. She came to the first night with Hugo and a couple I didn’t recognise. Then again yesterday with the same couple as before and a fellow with an eye-patch.’
Silence stretched out on invisible threads as Ashley’s and Jem’s eyes met and locked.
‘What?’ asked Francis, looking from one to the other of them. ‘Come on. If I’ve said something important, I’d quite like to be given due credit.’
‘The fellow with the eye-patch is someone that I, Sir Edward Hyde and the King all know. At this point, I’m not prepared to give you a name. Suffice it to say he’s one of our small but merry band-in-exile. The trouble is, Jem has recently seen him visiting Lucy Walter which – considering that His Majesty is striving to keep the lady at arms’ length and also discourage her from creating further scandals – is rather hard to explain.’
‘Is it? I’d have thought Mistress Lucy’s proclivities make the answer obvious.’
‘And it might be,’ agreed Ashley. Except that Will Brierley is probably the best agent I know and far too bright to make that kind of mistake. ‘As for Celia, I think you’d be the first to say she and discretion aren’t even on nodding terms – so encourage her to gossip, by all means. But nothing I’ve just said is to leave this room. I hope that’s abundantly clear?’
Jem moved as if to spit and then, catching the Colonel’s eye, thought better of it.
‘I reckon you don’t need to tell me that,’ he said huffily. ‘Never gabbed about your affairs before, have I? If word gets into the wrong ear, it won’t be me what puts it there.’
‘It won’t be me, either,’ said Francis calmly. ‘I’ve been told many times that I talk a lot but I’m not entirely stupid.’
Ashley nodded. He was starting to feel tired again and he wondered irritably how much longer this weakness was going to last. Also, without the opium, his leg was starting to hurt like a bitch. He said, ‘All right. Jem – spend what time you can keeping an eye on Mistress Walter but don’t put in all the hours that God sends. It isn’t worth it. Francis. Go to Hyde and tell him that I’m out of action at present and have enlisted your assistance. Then ask him if he’s involved one of my colleagues in the Lucy Walter affair. He won’t – or shouldn’t – give you a name and you shouldn’t ask for one. Yes or no will do.’
Francis nodded. ‘And Celia?’
‘Visit her and s
ee what you can get. But don’t arouse her suspicions.’
‘Celia’s mind being what it is, the only suspicion that will cross it is that I fancy the lady.’ He raised a meditative brow. ‘If I let her think that and she offers me an introduction, should I take it?’
‘I wouldn’t recommend it. Not unless you’re happy to take the nice present she’s likely to offer you.’
~ * * ~ * * ~
THREE
Having spent twenty-four hours whisking herself in and out of Ashley’s room while he dozed, Athenais finally plucked up the courage to face him.
Standing very straight and looking him squarely in the eye, she said, ‘I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to continually inconvenience you with my presence and to even think of sleeping in the dressing-closet. I ought to have realised that you needed some privacy – particularly from me. My only excuse is that I was worried and not thinking clearly. But I can promise that it won’t happen again.’
Again, Ashley felt that little squeeze at his heart. She didn’t need to say this and shouldn’t feel that she had to. Although her voice was composed and there was dignity in every line of her body, he saw the hurt lying behind her eyes and wished, not for the first time, that he could say the one thing which would banish it.
Since he couldn’t, he smiled at her and, with a slight shake of his head, said, ‘You don’t inconvenience me. How could you think it?’
‘Pauline said that I – I was smothering you.’
‘No. You were doing your best to look after me. And, if anyone needs to apologise, it is I. You’ve been toiling up and down stairs for four days without a word of thanks from me. So I’d be well-served if you left me to stew in my own ingratitude.’
‘I wouldn’t do that. And I haven’t done it to earn your gratitude.’
‘I know. But I hope you will accept it all the same.’
Athenais nodded, unsure of what to say. She was relieved that this was over and that he hadn’t made it unnecessarily awkward. She’d have liked to linger and talk to him but, considering that she’d just promised to leave him in peace, that didn’t seem to be an option. So she said, ‘I’ll go, then … unless there’s anything you need?’
‘Nothing. Though I’ve a couple of questions, if you’ll humour me?’ He patted the side of the bed invitingly and, when she sat – demurely and with some hesitation – at his side, he realised it had probably been a mistake because she was close enough for him to catch the scent of her hair. ‘My recollections of that first night are extremely hazy. But I think you fainted while Pauline was stitching me up, didn’t you?’
Athenais groaned. ‘Yes. I’d hoped you wouldn’t remember.’
He didn’t say that he hadn’t. He merely remarked that he hadn’t taken her for the sort of girl prone to swooning.
‘I’m not. I’ve never done so before and am quite ashamed that I did it at such a moment. It was entirely stupid of me.’
‘What caused it?’
‘I don’t know.’ It was a lie but she wasn’t about to tell him that seeing him suffer had been killing her. ‘I wasn’t watching what Pauline was doing but somehow the mere thought of it made me feel sick.’ She stopped, managing a self-deprecating smile. ‘The next thing I knew, Francis was carrying me into the other room and pushing my head on to my knees. I felt a complete idiot, of course – and still do. I’m sorry.’
Ashley recognised that there was something she wasn’t saying but he let it go.
‘If I say I’m sorry you were made to feel ill on my account, do you think we might stop apologising to each other?’ he asked.
‘I suppose we could try,’ she responded, relaxing a little. ‘What was the other thing?’
‘The other thing?’
‘Yes. You said you had a couple of questions. What was the other?’
He’d intended to ask her about later, when he’d felt as if he was freezing to death.
Did you really lie beside me in bed or did I dream it? Did I dream of your hair tickling my face, your arms holding me still and the warmth of your body along the length of mine?
But suddenly that didn’t seem like a very good idea. Given the circumstances, it was better to think of it as an illusion than to know for a fact that it wasn’t.
He said smoothly, ‘I merely wondered how the theatre has managed without you these last few days and whether your absence is likely to get you into trouble.’
‘They’ve managed well enough,’ she shrugged. ‘No one is indispensable, after all. Delphine has gone on in my place and Monsieur Froissart sent me the script for our next production so that I can prepare. Truth to tell, I’m not particularly sorry to miss a few performances of Mariamne. Etienne tries to make me laugh during the love-scenes – which is naughty of him and rather tiresome. And half of the audience only comes for the fireworks and the fighting.’
‘And the other half?’ He gave her an easy, deliberately charming smile. ‘I think you’re too modest.’
Her response was unexpected.
‘Don’t do that!’ she said crossly. ‘Don’t smile and flatter me as if everything is all right when we both know it isn’t. I realise you don’t want to hear it – but I can’t stomach that you’ve been hurt like this because of me. I could vomit every time I think of it. And the worst thing is, I don’t understand why it happened. Since the day he came here, I haven’t clapped eyes on d’Auxerre. He doesn’t attend the theatre any more – though some say he goes to the Bourgogne instead and some, that he’s spending a great deal of time at his new house on the Isle St. Louis. But whatever he’s doing, he gives every appearance of having lost interest in me – in which case, what possible reason could he have for sending men to kill you? It doesn’t make sense!’
This time, against his better judgement, he took her hand.
He said quietly, ‘Actually, it does. He’s the type of man who can’t bear to lose, Athenais. He didn’t take kindly to your refusal. You saw his reaction to that. Then I threw him out of the house. Not physically, as I would have liked, but that made little difference to him. And I suspect that, for a time at least, I’ve eclipsed you and become his primary target.’ Running his thumb over and over the soft skin of her inner wrist, he held her eyes with his own. ‘He may come at me again – or he may not. He may have lost interest in you – or he may not. But until we know one way or another, we’ll keep all our precautions in place – and I’ll give a little more attention to guarding my back.’
Athenais stared back at him, acutely conscious of his touch and wondering what he’d do if she leaned over and brushed his cheek with a kiss. Her lips parted and her breathing grew a little more rapid.
Ashley felt her pulse fluttering under his fingers and found himself sliding fathoms deep into liquid eyes the colour of smoke. She was beautiful, and passionate and, above all, genuine. He imagined how it would be to have her mouth under his … to slowly uncover each slender curve until every lovely inch of her lay beneath his hands … to have her helpless with hunger and gasping his name. God.
Inevitably, the brief fantasy produced a physical reaction which was about to make itself embarrassingly obvious. He shifted his position, raising his good knee to disguise it but something must have shown on his face for Athenais said quickly, ‘You’re in pain, aren’t you? Is there anything I can do?’
Three things, darling – the most desirable of which I’m not capable right now, came the involuntary thought. Reprehensible, of course and also stupid since it did nothing to calm the stirring in his loins. Realising it would be wise to send her away so that his body had time to settle, he said, ‘No. It’s just a slight cramp. If I’m left alone for a while, I can … re-direct … my circulation.’
‘Of course.’ She stood up and gave him her usual dazzlingly sweet smile. ‘Suzon is making a cassoulet for supper and I promised to help with the vegetables. Pauline is adamant that I shall not be idle, you see.’
She left, closing the door quietly behind her and Ashley released a
breath he hadn’t been aware of holding. Then he forced his mind clear and took several long, calming breaths. In one sense it was comforting to know that at least one part of his body was working correctly; in another it just added to the torments of this whole, hellish week.
* * *
After kicking his heels at the Louvre on more than one occasion and for far longer than he thought necessary, Francis returned at noon the following day with the information Ashley had asked for.
‘I finally managed to see Hyde,’ he said without preamble. ‘It took him a while to stop pretending he didn’t know what I was talking about but he was eventually persuaded to answer the question.’
‘And?’
‘And he hasn’t involved anyone else in the matter. He seemed to feel that you were fully capable of resolving the situation without help.’
Ashley had suspected as much and wasn’t particularly happy at having his suspicions confirmed. If One-Eyed Will wasn’t working officially, the question of what he was doing became highly pertinent. Again, Ashley entertained and then dismissed the notion of an affair between Will and the King’s former mistress but recognised that there was no harm in checking the matter out. And in the meantime, he needed to consider other possible alternatives – of which, just at the moment, he couldn’t see any.
He said, ‘Well, at least we know. It answers one question and poses a dozen others – which is hardly helpful. You’d better tell Jem to concentrate his efforts on the gentleman with the eye-patch.’
‘Sir William Brierley,’ said Francis, cheerfully. ‘Yes.’ And, with a slight shrug, ‘I’m sorry. But it wasn’t very difficult to establish.’
‘No. I suppose not. I take it you’re not personally acquainted with him?’
‘Never met the fellow. But, reading between the lines, I’d guess he has certain skills … not dissimilar to your own.’
‘You’re fishing,’ said Ashley with a chilly smile. ‘Don’t.’
‘All right. Have it your own way.’ Francis sat down, stretched out his legs and contemplated the shabbiness of his boots. ‘I’ve seen Celia, too – for all the good it did.’