by Stella Riley
‘And Luciano?’
‘Busy as ever and still razor-sharp – but the most ludicrously doting husband and father you could ever wish to meet.’ Tobias paused and then said, ‘My apprenticeship finished around the time of Tabitha’s wedding but I stayed on until Sir was prepared to admit that there was nothing more he could teach me. Now he has and I’m ready to set up my sign. Is that going to be all right with you?’
‘It’s better than all right, you ass! I’m surprised you needed to ask,’ replied Eden. ‘The only reason Luciano held on to these premises was for you.’
‘I know. But you live here too and --’
‘And I’ll be glad of the company and eager to see you succeed – as you will.’
‘Thank you.’ Pleasure at his brother’s vote of confidence brought a hint of colour to Tobias’s cheek. He said, ‘Sir left a basic stock of equipment at Thorne Ash and I’ve arranged for it to be delivered here two days from now. I’ve also ordered a further consignment from suppliers in Rotterdam which will take a little longer. I’ll be setting up the workshop where it always was.’
‘Ah. You know we had a fire down there? Obviously, I’ve had it cleared up but --’
‘I’ve seen it. The workbench and the wall-racking will need replacing but, aside from that, it’s fine.’ Tobias held out his cup for more ale. ‘There’s a story behind that fire, isn’t there?’
‘There is. You met Gabriel Brandon at Tabitha’s wedding, didn’t you?’
‘Your commanding officer? Yes.’
‘Well, somebody tried to roast him alive. But perhaps I’d better start at the beginning?’
* * *
Later that night, his arms full of a sleepy and thoroughly sated Deborah, Eden said, ‘What do you think of my little brother?’
‘Little? He’s hardly that.’
‘You don’t need to remind me.’
She laughed and kissed his shoulder.
‘He’s easy and open and charming. The young girls will be falling over themselves.’ She hesitated and then said, ‘Are you going to tell him I’m your mistress?’
‘Probably – assuming he doesn’t figure it out for himself.’
‘Will he mind?’
‘Why should he? And I don’t care whether he does or not.’ He cuddled her closer. ‘Let him find his own pie-maker.’
* * *
On the following day, Eden arrived home earlier than usual and found Deborah in the parlour refreshing her bowls of scented herbs. She said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me that your brother is quite mad?’
‘I didn’t know he was. Why? What’s he doing?’
‘He’s in the cellar beneath the cellar. A place I didn’t know existed before today. And he’s digging up the floor.’
‘He’s what?’
‘Digging. He’s been at it most of the afternoon.’
Eden shook his head.
‘I didn’t know there was a lower cellar, either. I’d better take a look.’
Taking a candle, Eden walked downstairs and looked around. He spotted the open trapdoor, wondered why he’d never noticed it before and then realised that it had previously lain beneath the work-bench. Peering into the dimly-lit hole, he called, ‘Toby? What the hell are you doing down there?’
‘Following Sir’s orders,’ came the echoing reply. ‘And it’s taken longer than expected. But I think I have it all now.’
‘Have all of what?’
Eden set his feet to the narrow-runged ladder and descended with some difficulty on account of the candle.
‘Luciano’s Hoard.’
Reaching the bottom, Eden walked over the parts of the beaten-earth floor that Tobias didn’t appear to have attacked with a spade.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘No. You wouldn’t have.’ Tobias was sitting on the ground, covered in dirt and surrounded by numerous irregular-shaped packages. ‘Back in ’45, Sir had to leave a goodly amount of stock behind when he left London to catch up with Cyrus Winter – so he buried it down here.’
‘And it’s still there?’
‘Yes.’ Tobias grinned up at his brother and gestured to the one bundle he’d unwrapped.
Eden squatted beside him and looked.
Laid out on Tobias’s handkerchief were some dozen exquisite pieces. A tiny parrot carved out of emerald; an amethyst intaglio depicting an eagle with a snake in its beak; and a small enamelled scent-bottle, overlaid with diamonds and rubies.
Eden stared and stared again. Then he said, ‘This has been down here all the time?’
‘Yes.’
‘And Luciano asked you to dig it up? Why?’
‘A couple of reasons. First, he’s suggested that I remove all the loose stones for my own use. And second, at the time he originally buried it, he was in a hurry so I’m to re-pack it properly in waxed paper and hessian.’
‘And then?’
‘He left that to my discretion. But it’s been safe enough down here for the last seven years, hasn’t it?’
‘You’re going to put it back?’ asked Eden incredulously. ‘Why, for God’s sake?’
‘Because he doesn’t need it and neither do I. Also, because he says we don’t know what the future may bring and sufficient money can usually overcome any eventuality.’
‘Such as what?’
‘A shift in government. Father sat in the Parliament and you’ve fought for it. If the King should ever be restored, what do you think will happen to Thorne Ash? To Mother and Tabitha … to your children?’ Tobias stood up and started passing packages to Eden. ‘Luciano’s worth a bloody fortune these days … and he wants to ensure that the family has something to fall back on, should the need arise. So you won’t mind giving me a hand, will you?’
* * *
Working non-stop, it took Tobias two full days to unpack, sort and then re-package what he persisted in calling Luciano’s Hoard. Seeing it spread out in all its glory on the floor of an empty bedchamber, Eden was stunned by both the sheer quantity but also the quality of what Luciano del Santi had left buried. And when Tobias insisted he choose something to give to Deborah, he selected an enamelled gold chain, set with seed pearls and rubies and looked forward to seeing it against her naked skin.
They replaced the caskets in the lower cellar on the morning of Christmas Eve and then, having washed off the signs of their endeavours, they repaired to the parlour for a well-earned glass of wine and a platter of freshly-made fruit pies. They were just embarking on the second glass when they heard the pealing of the doorbell, followed by Deborah’s voice raised in welcome.
Eden set his glass to one side and stood up, unsure who his visitor might be. Then the door opened and he said blankly, ‘Nick? How in God’s name did you get here?’
‘With difficulty,’ replied Nicholas succinctly. ‘The crossing was a nightmare. I thought I’d be spending Yule at the bottom of the channel.’ He shook Eden’s hand, gave Tobias a polite nod and added, ‘If there’s any wine left, I’d be glad of it. I’m half-soaked and freezing.’
‘Take your coat off and sit by the fire,’ said Eden, pouring wine. ‘This is my brother, Tobias. Toby – meet Sir Nicholas Austin. He’s been on a mission for me.’ He handed Nicholas the glass and added, ‘Nothing untoward, I hope?’
‘No.’
‘Good. Then you can fill me in later, when you’ve thawed out.’
Nicholas subsided into a chair and took a large swallow of wine. Then he said, ‘I’m here because Francis asked me to come. Something’s happened. It’s nothing to do with the – the business that took me to France. It’s something else.’ He paused briefly. ‘Eden, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to say this except straight out.’
‘So say it.’
‘It’s Francis’s sister … your wife. She’s dead.’
The words were greeted with stunned silence. Finally, Tobias said, ‘Celia?’
Nicholas nodded, keeping his eyes on Eden as he waited for him to speak. And event
ually, Eden said, ‘When? And how?’
‘It was a week ago. She fell down the stairs and broke her neck.’
‘Hallelujah,’ muttered Tobias. ‘Pity she didn’t do it years ago.’
‘Don’t, Toby.’ Eden drew a long, steadying breath. ‘I’m not going to pretend I’m sorry she’s dead. But neither am I about to burst into wild celebration.’ He turned back to Nicholas. ‘How’s Francis?’
‘Shocked, of course. But Ash is with him. And Pauline. So he’ll be all right.’
‘Pauline?’
Nicholas nodded and, for the first time, smiled a little.
‘Yes. If you want my opinion, I think he’s in love with her.’
~ * * ~ * * ~
ACT FIVE
DÉNOUEMENT
Paris, December 1652 to March 1653
‘Judge not the play before the play is done; her plot hath many changes.
Every day speaks a new scene; the last act crowns the play.’
Francis Quarles
ONE
They buried Celia two days before Christmas in the churchyard of St Germain-des-Près. It was bitterly cold and, aside from Francis, Ashley and Sir Hugo Verney, only four other people deigned to attend. None of them was Celia’s mother.
Back in the Rue des Rosiers, Francis put his arms around Pauline, leaned his cheek against her hair and said, ‘Thank God that’s over.’
She hugged him back, albeit hesitantly. ‘Was it bad?’
‘It could have been worse, I suppose. Though between Verney shedding tears I am quite sure meant nothing and the fact that my bitch of a mother couldn’t be bothered to put in an appearance, it’s hard to know how.’ He released her and stepped away. ‘Thank you for allowing me that crumb of comfort. I needed it.’
Pauline tried to think which of the many things she might say would be most helpful. In the end, she answered directly as she always did.
‘You don’t need to thank me. I thought I’d made that plain.’
‘You did. You offered me something I want very much indeed … but you offered it when I was at a particularly low ebb and I’d like us both to be sure it wasn’t out of kindness. This,’ he said, touching her cheek with light, almost insubstantial fingers, ‘is new to me. It feels important. So I’m not about to risk it by rushing.’
A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed it.
‘You speak as if you’ve never wanted a woman before.’
‘I’ve wanted lots of them. And,’ he smiled suddenly, ‘I’ve had quite a few. That isn’t what this is about … and waiting seems the best way to convince you of it. But once you’ve accepted and got used to the idea … well, then I’ll be more than willing to take you to bed.’
‘But not before?’
‘No. Sadly, not before.’
She made a helpless gesture with her hands.
‘I don’t know what to say to you. You baffle me.’
‘I know. Truth to tell, Duchess, I baffle myself as well.’
* * *
Monsieur Laroque having announced that the theatre would close for three days from Christmas Eve, Pauline and Suzon spent the day baking while Athenais decorated the house with the armfuls of greenery brought in by Ashley and Francis. Then, in the evening, everyone sat around the kitchen table enjoying a simple meal washed down with a good deal of cheap wine.
It was late when Ashley and Athenais were finally alone in her room. As it always did, passion flared at the first touch. Sometimes urgent and demanding; sometimes, like tonight, slow and languorous and incredibly sweet. But afterwards, when she was curled up against him with her fingers straying lazily over his chest, Ashley felt the familiar anxiety start to gnaw at the back of his mind.
Mostly, he managed to avoid thinking of the future by concentrating on the exquisite pleasure of the present. But sometimes, on nights like this, after they had made love he found himself unable to entirely shut out grim reality. A reality which said that this couldn’t last;
that the time would come when he’d have held her for the last time … kissed her for the last time … loved her for the last time. And when that time did come, he wasn’t sure how he would deal with it, since the mere thought made him feel as if his guts had been wrenched out.
In the meantime, however, he’d bought a gift for her. It lay in a little velvet pouch in the pocket of his coat, waiting for the morning. It wasn’t much, really. It was so much less than he’d have liked to give her, yet still more than he could sensibly afford. He hoped she liked it; he thought she would … but was afraid she might not. The truth was that she’d never asked him for anything yet still invariably looked at him as if he’d torn the stars from the sky for her. And he wished he could.
He hadn’t expected to sleep but the next thing he knew, dingy light was creeping through the window and Athenais was skimming her instep up and down his calf.
As soon as he opened his eyes, she said, ‘Happy Christmas. It’s snowing again.’
She was as flushed and excited as a child so he couldn’t resist teasing her.
‘Then perhaps we should stay in the warm for a little while longer.’
‘No, no. We have this whole day. I want to walk in the snow and listen to the church bells and – and I want you to kiss me until I’m dizzy.’
‘I can do that right here,’ he said. And did so.
By the time he released her mouth, she was gasping. Ashley slid his hands tantalisingly over her and murmured, ‘Do you still want bells and snow?’
‘No. I want you. Just you.’
‘By an odd coincidence, that’s exactly what I had in mind.’
Later, when he had donned his own clothes and finished lacing Athenais into the leaf-green gown, he pulled the little pouch from his pocket and said, ‘Close your eyes and stand still.’
She did it but said laughingly, ‘I’m dressed. You can’t be wicked now.’
He moved behind her and, setting his mouth close to her ear, breathed, ‘Oh I think you’ll find that I can.’
Then, withdrawing the contents of the pouch, he fastened his gift around her neck.
Her breath stopped, her eyes flew open and her fingers flew to the cool thing touching her skin.
‘What--? Oh! Ashley? You didn’t – you shouldn’t – oh, let me see!’
He smiled and held the mirror out to her.
Athenais looked and looked again and was suddenly very still. A dainty silver chain, alternately studded with moonstones and amethysts, lay around the base of her throat. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she traced it with one fingertip. Her colour rose and the smoky eyes grew suspiciously bright. She said huskily, ‘It’s beautiful. But you shouldn’t … I know there’s no money. You shouldn’t have spent what little you have on this.’
The expression of dazzled awe on her face as she continued to stare into the mirror was more than sufficient reward, Ashley thought. He said gently, ‘If you like it, nothing else matters in the least.’
She turned to him then and cast the mirror aside to throw her arms about his neck.
‘I love it. Of course, I love it. How could I not? I never expected … I’ve never had any jewellery ever before. But you need a new coat and boots. You need them so badly … and yet you’ve done this. You break my heart … and I’ve nothing to give you.’
‘You’ve already given me something beyond price, Athenais. The best gift in the world.’ He held her close until he thought the tears had stopped. ‘Now let’s go down and join the others. But you’ll have to dry your eyes or Pauline will hit me with a skillet.’
* * *
With what, to Ashley at least, was touching delight, Athenais showed off his gift to Pauline, Francis and Archie. The results were variable.
Archie, who had yet to come to terms with the fact that his daughter was sleeping with the Colonel, said gruffly, ‘No more’n he should do – unless ’e’s taking you for granted.’
Pauline pulled Athenais to one side and said, ‘Just so you know – he wa
s given some money by the English Chancellor. And what isn’t hanging round your neck, he gave to me for food and rent – even though I told him there was no need. So I thought you might want it to buy him a decent second-hand coat.’
And Francis merely lifted one eyebrow at Ashley and said, ‘It’s lovely, Athenais. And it suits you perfectly.’
The day passed swiftly and in an atmosphere of increasing good cheer. They ate Suzon’s stuffed goose with roast parsnips and cabbage, before moving on to Pauline’s fruit-and-nut tarts. Then, when everyone had lent a hand to clear the table, they all trooped into the parlour where Jem and Archie immediately launched into a lively rendering of Which Nobody Can Deny. Francis recited some verses by Suckling and Davenant, mixed in with a few of his own; Ashley was eventually persuaded to sing the parts he remembered of To Drive The Cold Winter Away in a light, tuneful baritone that succeeded in making Athenais cry again; and Pauline delivered a tragic monologue from Corneille’s Polyeucte that made everyone cry – Jem and Archie mostly because they scarcely understood a word of it.
‘Outstanding as that was, Duchess,’ said Francis at length, ‘we’re in danger of becoming maudlin. Also, Athenais has yet to contribute to the entertainment.’
Having drunk more wine than she was accustomed to, Athenais was curled up beside Ashley. She said, ‘I can’t. I shall make an idiot of myself.’
‘Excellent. That’s just what we want.’ He reached down and pulled her to her feet, grinning when she lurched a little. ‘You wanted to play the wife? Now’s your chance.’
She shook her head. ‘I need a script.’
‘No, you don’t. God knows, you’ve watched Ménage enough times – and I’ve seen you miming the words backstage.’
‘It still won’t work. You need another man.’
‘And we have one,’ announced Francis, grinning at Ashley. ‘Pauline is herself; I shall play the husband, also prompting where necessary … and you, mon Colonel, can be the lover. I call that perfect casting.’ He swept round, lifted Pauline on to the table and said, ‘Jem – move your carcass. We need the sofa. And now … positions, please!’