by Dilly Court
‘Thank you, you’re very kind, but I’ll have a word with the guard before we do anything hasty. I think my French is up to it.’ Byron walked off without waiting for anyone to comment, and he greeted the gendarme with a pleasant smile.
Nettie waited anxiously. ‘At least Byron hasn’t been arrested.’
‘He’s still smiling. That’s a good sign.’ Constance laid her mittened hand on Nettie’s arm. ‘You must stay with us until this business is settled. Byron, too, if he wishes. I’ve been trying to persuade Duke to return to Paris, but for some reason he’s decided to remain at the château for the foreseeable future. I’d be glad of your company.’
Nettie gave her a searching look. ‘Are you sure that Duke won’t mind?’
‘I’ll get my own way in the end – I always do.’ Constance glanced over Nettie’s shoulder. ‘Your friend is returning and he doesn’t look too pleased.’
Byron strode back to them, his expression grim. ‘I’m sorry. I did my best, but we’re not allowed on the barge until after the magistrate’s hearing tomorrow, and maybe not even then if the case goes against Aristide.’
‘So it’s just Aristide who’ll be in the dock?’
‘It’s all to do with him selling off the cargo. Someone has reported him to the owner of the vineyard, and Robert is involved simply because he was said to be helping Aristide.’
‘So it’s nothing to do with Pa’s work?’
‘No, apparently not.’
Nettie breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank goodness for that.’
‘And you will stay at the château until everything is sorted out?’ Constance asked eagerly.
‘I will,’ Nettie said hastily. ‘But I can’t answer for Byron.’
Byron raised Constance’s hand to his lips. ‘I’d be honoured, ma’am. The prospect of sleeping in a proper bed and eating meals at a dinner table is too tempting to refuse.’
Constance linked arms with him. ‘It’s the least we can do.’
Nettie was about to follow them, when out of the corner of her eye she spotted a man lurking in the shadows. There was something familiar about him that she could not pinpoint, but a shiver ran down her spine and she quickened her pace.
Chapter Eight
Duke returned from the gendarmerie later that afternoon and joined them in the wainscoted drawing room.
‘I saw Robert briefly, and he said he was being treated well enough, but his lack of French was making life difficult for him. I advised him to say as little as possible and I found an English-speaking lawyer to represent him. Aristide can look after his own affairs.’
‘Was Pa all right in himself?’ Nettie asked anxiously.
‘Yes, as far as I could tell. He’s worried that the French authorities might have been warned to look out for him, but I told him that wasn’t the case. He’s being held because of Aristide’s liberal attitude to the cargo that doesn’t belong to him. In any event, I am the person the Metropolitan Police are looking for.’
‘The police did question my father,’ Nettie said angrily. ‘But you are Marc Gaillard now. Would anyone in this town know your true identity? Apart from us, of course, and Constance.’
Duke shook his head. ‘I’ve taken great care to protect my alias, but one can never be complacent. It might be time to move on.’
‘What does that mean, Duke?’ Constance asked eagerly. ‘Are you thinking of returning to Paris?’
‘Maybe not Paris. But if my old adversary Samson Wegg has traced me here, we might have to move on. Wegg isn’t the sort to give up.’
‘What did you do to make him hate you?’ Nettie asked, unable to contain her curiosity any longer. ‘Mr Pendleton told me that there was some kind of feud between you.’
Duke shrugged and shook his head. ‘Wegg thinks I seduced his younger sister and abandoned her. The girl died in childbirth, the baby also.’
Constance gazed at him in horror. ‘It’s not true, is it?’
‘Wegg thinks it is, and that’s all that matters.’ Duke leaned over to drop a kiss on Constance’s forehead. ‘Don’t worry, my dear. We will take a long sabbatical, somewhere warm and sunny.’
Nettie and Byron exchanged anxious looks, but Constance smiled like an excited child. ‘How lovely. Where will we go?’
He smiled reluctantly. ‘Who knows?’
‘I’m not leaving without my father,’ Nettie said firmly. ‘Your lawyer will get him acquitted, won’t he, Duke?’
‘We must hope so.’ Duke turned to Byron. ‘There’s not much we can do for the moment. I’ll show you round the château, if you’re interested. It has a gory history that isn’t for the faint-hearted.’
Byron sprang to his feet. ‘Thank you, I’d like that. I’ve never been in a château before.’
They strolled off together, leaving Nettie and Constance seated by the fire. Despite the heat from the blazing pine logs, Nettie shivered. It might be warm and sunny out of doors, but inside the thick stone walls of the château there seemed to be a permanent chill.
‘I wish Duke would treat me like a grown-up,’ Constance said moodily. ‘I might be young, but I’m not a delicate flower. I don’t want to be cosseted and protected.’
‘In that case you can help me,’ Nettie said firmly. ‘I want to get my things from the barge. I could find my way there, but I need an interpreter. Will you come with me?’
Constance jumped to her feet. ‘Yes, of course. How exciting! We’ll slip away without telling anyone, and then we won’t have to put up with Henri following us like a lapdog.’
They reached the water’s edge without mishap and Constance kept the gendarme talking while Nettie retrieved her notebook from behind the flour sack. She tucked it under her shawl and climbed back onto the landing stage. Constance was flirting outrageously with the young policeman and Nettie walked off slowly, allowing Constance a chance to catch her up.
‘I haven’t had so much fun for a long time,’ Constance said breathlessly. ‘Did you get what you wanted?’
Nettie clasped the book tightly as they hurried back towards the château. ‘I did.’
‘What have you written? Will you let me see it?’
‘It’s a novel, but I’ve only done a couple of chapters.’
‘Even so, I’d love to read your story.’
‘All right, but only if you promise not to tell anybody. I haven’t even told Pa that I write romances.’
‘How exciting. You might become famous one day.’
‘I’d just like to be able to earn my own living so that I’m not dependent on Pa, or any man, come to that.’ Nettie shot her a sideways glance. ‘I didn’t mean that as a criticism, Constance. You did what you had to do in the circumstances.’
‘I admire your spirit – I really do. But you can’t change the way the world is, Nettie.’
‘No, but there’s no harm in trying.’ Nettie quickened her pace. ‘Come on, we’d better get back before we’re missed.’
‘We’ll be in time to change for dinner. Maybe later this evening you’ll let me read your story so far.’
The room that Nettie had been given at the château was luxurious beyond all her expectations, and every effort had been made to make her feel comfortable, from the bowls of spring flowers that brightened even the darkest corner, to the fire that crackled and sizzled as resin oozed from the sweet-smelling pine logs. It was a relief to go there after dinner and sit quietly on the window seat that overlooked the knot garden, while Constance perched on a chair by the fire, reading Nettie’s novel.
‘I love it,’ Constance said, closing the notebook and laying it on a table at her side. ‘You definitely have a talent, Nettie.’
‘It’s my secret. You must promise not to tell anyone.’
Constance rose to her feet and crossed the floor to where Nettie was sitting. ‘I won’t tell a soul.’ She clasped Nettie’s hands in hers. ‘I’ll say good night, and thank you for letting me read your story. I can’t wait to find out how it ends.’ Constance lea
ned over to drop a kiss on Nettie’s forehead. She left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Nettie was exhausted, but her thoughts were with her father as she gazed out into the darkness. Everything here was so different from the life she and her father had led in London. They had done many moonlight flits and had lived in a variety of different locations, but nothing like this strange and eerie château on the banks of the River Seine. The lights of the town twinkled in the distance and bats flew in crazy circles, swooping and diving against the deep blue of the night sky. Nettie rested her head against the windowpane, praying silently that the next day would see the release of her father and Aristide. Nothing was certain – their future depended on the expertise of Duke’s lawyer – and then, as she gazed into the purple darkness, she remembered where she had seen the man who had been loitering near the landing stage. She leaped to her feet, and forgetting that she was wearing a borrowed nightgown and robe, she headed for the stairs. Her feet hardly touched the treads in her haste to find Duke, but the drawing room was in darkness apart from the glowing embers of the fire, and she made for his studio, her bare feet making soft slapping sounds on the flagstone floor. Her breathing was ragged as she burst into the room to find him standing in front of a particularly fine painting. He looked round, staring at her in amazement. ‘Nettie? What’s the matter?’
‘Samson Wegg,’ she gasped, clutching her hands to her bosom as she struggle to catch her breath. ‘I saw him in Dover Street and I’d swear he was down by the landing stage earlier.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I went to the barge to collect something that is important to me. I saw someone in the shadows and I didn’t think much of it at the time, but it came to me suddenly – I’m certain it was Wegg.’
‘Are you sure? This could be serious?’
Nettie nodded vigorously. ‘I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I’m convinced that it was him, and if he’s followed you here it won’t take him long to realise that my pa is involved in your shady dealings.’ She felt the cold strike up from the floor and she wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to stop her teeth chattering.
Duke strode across the floor and took her by the arm. ‘You’re shivering. I’ve got a bottle of cognac in my study. You look as though you need a drink.’
‘I don’t want brandy,’ Nettie protested. ‘I want you to take me seriously. Why would a nark have followed you to France, if he wasn’t working for the police?’
‘You might be mistaken. You say the man was in shadow – it could be anybody.’
Nettie shook her head. ‘It was the way he was standing with his shoulders hunched, and a battered top hat tilted to the side. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but then it came to me.’
‘Come with me, and don’t argue.’ Duke led her from the studio to a small, book-lined room where he lit candles and pulled up a chair for her.
Nettie took a seat and sat primly with her bare feet tucked under the material of her robe. ‘If it was Wegg you could be in trouble – my pa also.’
‘I’m very well aware of that.’ Duke took a bottle from a side table and poured two generous tots of brandy into cut-crystal glasses. He handed one to Nettie. ‘Drink this – it will calm your nerves.’
Nettie did not argue. She was chilled to the bone, but she knew it was fear making her blood run cold. ‘Thank you.’ She took one sip and then another.
‘Why were you down by the river?’
‘I told you just now. I wanted to get something from the barge.’
‘It was a foolish thing to do. Did you go alone?’
‘You’re not my keeper, Duke.’
‘You’re my responsibility while you’re under my roof. I repeat, did you go alone?’
‘Constance chose to accompany me. You can’t keep her locked up. It isn’t the right way to treat anyone, let alone your wife.’
Duke drained his glass and set it down on the desk. He perched on the edge, arms folded. ‘I suppose Constance has told you everything.’
‘I wouldn’t say that, but she did confide in me to a certain extent.’
‘Very neat,’ Duke said drily. ‘You would make a good lawyer, Miss Carroll.’
Nettie took another sip of the brandy. ‘I wouldn’t take you as a client, Duke. I think you’re using Constance to protect your own interests, and I doubt if you’ve ever considered her feelings.’
‘You know nothing about me, or about her, if it comes to that. I’ve watched Connie grow from a child to a woman and I would never do anything to hurt her. Does that satisfy you?’
‘A little, but this isn’t about Constance, is it? If Samson Wegg has traced you here, he will almost certainly have passed information about you to the French police. If you attend the court tomorrow you might be walking into a trap.’
Duke eyed her with an amused twist to his lips. ‘Don’t tell me that you care what happens to me.’
‘I don’t,’ Nettie said coldly. ‘But I do care about Constance. I think she deserves better than to be tied to a criminal like you.’
‘So what do you want from me, Nettie?’ Duke walked round the desk and sat down in a padded leather chair. ‘What would you have me do?’
‘I want you to make sure that my father doesn’t go to prison, and we need money to get away from here.’
He eyed her thoughtfully. ‘I’ll do what I can, but if you’re right – if that was Samson Wegg you saw down by the river – we are all in trouble.’ He straightened up and poured himself another drink. ‘I suggest you go to bed, Nettie. There’s nothing to be done until morning.’
Nettie slept surprisingly well that night and awakened early next morning. She dressed in a plain grey gown, borrowed from Constance, and confined her hair in a neat chignon at the back of her head before going downstairs to the dining room. Duke was just finishing his breakfast and Byron was also at the table. He put his coffee bowl down.
‘What were you thinking of, Nettie? Duke tells me that you and Constance went down to the river yesterday afternoon.’
‘Yes, we did,’ she said calmly. ‘And I saw someone who might cause trouble for all of us, including Duke.’
‘I’d have gone with you, if you’d asked me.’
‘Thank you, but we managed very well on our own.’ Nettie sat down next to him and reached for the coffee pot. ‘You weren’t around, anyway.’
‘I was being given a tour of the dungeons, and then I spent some time with my uncle, but you only had to ask and I’d have gone with you.’
‘Did your uncle tell you anything more about your family?’ Nettie asked, sipping her coffee.
‘I don’t want to talk about it now.’ Byron bowed his head and a lock of fair hair flopped over his eyes.
Nettie stared at him in surprise. ‘That’s not like you, Byron.’
‘Leave the fellow alone. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.’ Duke rose from the table. ‘I’m going to meet my lawyer and we’ll go straight to the court house. We’ll have to hope you were mistaken about seeing Wegg, Nettie.’
‘I’d like to come with you,’ Nettie said cautiously. ‘I promise I won’t interfere.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s best if you stay here. I’ll let you know when there is any news.’
She was about to argue, but a warning look from Byron silenced her. ‘All right. I suppose I’ll have to do as you say.’
‘You can trust me, Nettie,’ Duke said solemnly. ‘I know it will be difficult, but I don’t want to see Robert sent to prison any more than you do.’ He hesitated in the doorway. ‘Just in case things go wrong, I suggest you make ready to leave in a hurry, but don’t alarm Constance.’ He walked off, leaving Nettie with a dozen questions buzzing around in her head.
She bit her lip, understanding his meaning only too well.
‘I don’t know how to take that fellow,’ Byron said slowly. ‘We know he’s a criminal, but he seems to be the lord of the manor here, if they have such a thin
g in France. And why would a young woman like Constance tie herself to someone like him?’
Nettie was tempted to tell him, but she could not break a confidence and she merely shrugged. ‘Who knows what attracts people to each other? That’s their business, anyway, but what concerns me is the outcome of the trial. What will I do if Pa is locked up in a French prison?’
‘We’ll meet that when we come to it.’
She smiled. ‘You don’t have to stay with us. You’re a free man and you don’t have to share our exile.’
‘That’s just it, Nettie. I received some disturbing news from Uncle Jean.’
Alarmed by his sombre expression, Nettie laid her hand on his arm. ‘What did he say?’
‘I suppose I should be overjoyed, but I hardly slept last night for thinking about the lie that I’d grown up with.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Neither do I. Why would my father make up such a story?’
‘You’re talking in riddles. I must be something very bad to have upset you so much.’
‘All these years I’ve believed that my mother abandoned me – it wasn’t true. At least, that’s what my uncle told me. He said that she could not settle down to life as a doctor’s wife, and she went back to working in the theatre. My father threw her out and forbade her ever to see me again.’
‘I’m so sorry, Byron. That’s very sad. Did your uncle tell you anything else?’
‘He said that she returned to her family on the river.’
‘Does that mean she’s living here, in France?’
Byron shook his head. ‘Apparently she grew bored with the life of a water gypsy, and she went back to Paris and earned her living as a songstress. The last he heard of her she was in Spain, living in a small town on the coast of Catalonia.’
‘Why didn’t your father tell you the truth?
‘I don’t know, and it’s too late to ask him now. It was a cruel lie to tell a child. I thought she had left because of me. Uncle Jean said that leaving me in London broke her heart.’
‘She must have loved you very much.’