Beginning, Section II, Section III, Next Section
Chapter 20
Worth stood silently in the doorway, watching the man who lay silently on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Charles had left that morning, and Worth found it in himself to feel sorry for the man. While Worth was watching he saw the eyes shift from the ceiling, glance at him momentarily, then return to their observance of the ceiling.
"Do you want me for something?"
"Lady Sophia wished to know if you were receiving." The eyes looked at Worth once more, for a slightly extended period, then returned to the ceiling.
"Of course I am. Show her in." Worth went back to his saloon, where Lady Sophia was waiting. For some reason he felt incredibly uncomfortable and concerned. Thomlin watched Worth go, then experimentally tightened his lower jaw, pain lanced savagely through his head, and the edges of his vision darkened considerably. With a sigh he relaxed his jaw, and shoved his pillow up against the headboard, forcing his head up, but not putting any strain on his muscles. This operation finished he saw Lady Sophia standing in the doorway. "Lady Sophia."
"Lord Thomlin." Silence fell again for a brief moment.
"Won't you sit down." Sophia sat down gently on the foot of the bed, Thomlin noted with detached interest that she was so positioned that he didn't have to turn his head to see her.
"Thank you." Once again silence fell.
"Lord Worth said you wished to speak to me." Sophia hesitated then nodded, pulling open her reticule. From this she abstracted a fairly bulky looking dispatch.
"This dispatch was originally sent to your lodgings. Your landlord forwarded it to Mr. Bennet of Longbourn, who forwarded it to Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy, hearing that I intended to visit Lady Worth, requested that I deliver it to you." She handed it over. Thomlin eyed it thoughtfully, the seals appeared undamaged, which meant the dispatch was probably unread, even after its travels. He broke the seals and started to scan it. Lydia watched in silence as Thomlin read through the dispatch, his brow steadily darkened, and having finished it, he went back to the beginning and started reading it again. Having finished reading it lifted his eyes and stared long and hard at Lydia. Lydia returned his gaze evenly, until Thomlin dropped his gaze back to the dispatch.
"Take it out on me. The Worth's won't understand if you explode on them. I had Lord Worth clear the servants out of this part of the house." Thomlin glanced up, and Lydia noted with satisfaction that anger was starting to kindle in the back of his eyes.
"What in hell are you up to?"
"At present, I am saving some dear friends from the discomfort you could very easily cause them. You pride yourself on controlling your anger, but all you succeed in doing is bottling it up, causing discomfort to those around you." The anger turned in to a blaze.
"You can get out."
"Are you going to make me?" Lydia knew she was running a fearsome risk, but she had to make Thomlin lose his temper, otherwise he would make things uncomfortable for the Worth's, or at worst, explode.
"Don't test me to far."
"I can test you as far as I like. You are totally unarmed, and you cannot leave that bed."
"What in hell do you know about that." Thomlin's voice steadily grew louder.
"Quite a bit. You forget that I rode your Devil."
"What in hell have you done to my horse? I swear if Devil is hurt in the slightest I will rip your guts out."
"Oooh, we are getting vicious. All it will take is my assurance that I am the only person who has been feeding Devil. And you will probably manage to get out of that bed and use your famous powers."
"Get out! Get out before I really do murder you."
"Not at all, you know that this is good for you."
"If you don't get the hell out of here..." Thomlin suddenly ceased yelling, warned by the darkness of his vision that he was exerting strain on his neck muscles. He must have nearly sat up. Lydia watched in silence as the anger died out of his eyes, and he relaxed back onto his pillows, his brows deeply creased. "You're lucky I can't leave this bed."
"To be honest with you, I wouldn't have risked it if you had been able to. But then if you had been able to you would not be here."
"Why did you?"
"I doubt you realize what you're like when you are near boiling point. This was also exacerbated by nearly being bumped off. And Devil is perfectly safe."
"Do you feel like writing?"
"Not at all." Lydia's response was all frankness. "But I'm sure that Lady Worth would probably be quite willing to oblige you. What will Louis say to your delayed return?" Thomlin frowned at her momentarily.
"You are certainly pulling the gloves off! He'll have quite a lot to say, and none of it polite. By the way, you are no longer any of my business." Lydia nodded.
"I was aware. Otherwise I would not have come today. You won't consider defecting will you?" Thomlin shook his head, then scowled.
"Damme! I'll be hanged if I delay my return any longer. Here, give me a hand." Lydia hesitated momentarily, then shook her head.
"Considering the effect that just sitting up had on you, I would not suggest you try standing, or at least not until someone stronger than I am around."
"I'll still be hanged if I'm not gone by tomorrow morning. Tell Grant to crack the champagne. I'll probably be dead before I'm half-way across the channel."
"You are a wet blanket. What will you do with Devil? Mr. Bennet of Longbourn will probably look after him." Thomlin's head shot up and his eyes looked very sharply at Lydia. Lydia felt a slight frisson of fear shoot up her spine, that was trimming things too fine.
"May as well. How will you set it up?"
"Mr. Bennet is Mrs. Darcy's father, as you are well aware, I am sure I could arrange something."
"I'm sure you could." Thomlin's tone was dry in the extreme, he then looked up to see Lord Worth standing in the doorway.
"Lady Sophia. Mrs. Darcy has just arrived, apparently you are late for Guynette's luncheon."
"Oh, heavens. So I am. Thank you Lord Worth. I bid you good morning Lord Thomlin." Lydia quickly curtsied to each gentleman and started to leave the room.
"Lady Sophia, I bite my tongue, and rest well." Thomlin was rewarded by a mixed smile, it was partially comprehending, and partly puzzled. He smiled angelically in response and watched as she and Lord Worth departed, closing the door firmly behind them. Thomlin relaxed back totally into his pillows, slowly turning over in his mind what he knew of Lady Sophia, Marquise de la Chatelet, and Lydia Bennet Wickham.
He was flirting with the misses Chiltoe when Lydia arrived, but he excused himself as soon as he saw her.
"Lady Sophia, light of my heart, goddess, take pity on a poor colonel."
"La, Colonel Milton. You are too subtle for me." Lydia swept a curtsey.
"What! No George! I am desolated, of a formality this is."
"But you were the one who began the formality. I thirst, m'sieur, please get me a drink." Colonel bowed and vanished, soon to return with a glass of Negus. "Oh, Colonel. Negus! How did you know it was my favorite drink?"
"It was by instinct m'lady. Such a beautiful lady as stands before me could not like any other drink. May I have the honour of your hand for the next dance?" Lydia displayed a sad face.
"I fear not, m'sieur. I am engaged till the Allemande."
"May I have the Allemande then, my Lady?"
"La, sir. You overwhelm me with your felicitations. Till the Allemande, mon Colonel." Lydia curtsied, then allowed a foolish young dandy to lead her onto the floor.
Judith sighed as she saw Sophia finish her flirting with Colonel Milton and walked away with young Jentin.
"Something the matter, Judith?" Worth had observed what held his wife's attention, but was unaware of her train of thought.
"I find it bewildering, Julian." The dance separated them for a space, then brought them back together.
"What is bewildering?"
"Lady Sophia. In any other woman, I find such behavior repulsive, she is worse than Lady Barbara. And yet I cannot help but like her." Once again the dance separated.
"I would not wonder over it. Lady Sophia is a French woman, what more can you expect of a woman reared in revolutionary France. At least she is discreet. Otherwise she is just a charming and intelligent woman." Judith nodded, then sank into a curtsy as the dance ended.
"That is true, I had not thought of it that way." Worth lead her off the floor, but she was almost immediately back on it, her brother Perry had claimed her for the next dance.
"Perry! When did you arrive in town. And where is Harriet?" Sir Peregrine Taverner's grin had the school boy guilt quality.
"Yesterday. Harriet was feeling unwell after the trip and decided not to come. But I needed to see you."
"You are an abominable creature, Perry. Deserting Harriet like that."
"But she did not wish to come, and she practically ordered me to come. Are you and Worth going to the continent for the summer?"
"I believe so. Ask Julian." Perry grimaced, but quickly changed it to a smile at Judith's expression. "Really Perry! You are a grown man, and he doesn't bite."
"Just makes you feel dashed uncomfortable."
"Did you say something Perry?" Perry shook his head vigorously, and they exchanged only commonalties for the rest of the dance.
Elizabeth sat quietly, enjoying the peace, for the first time the evening she was unengaged.
"Elizabeth!" Elizabeth turned her head to see her husband standing behind her. "Don't stare. You are drawing attention to both yourself and the object of your attention." Elizabeth coloured slightly, realizing that she had been staring at Lydia.
"Thank you, I had not realized."
"Well I actually came to ask what the sound of a trip to the continent sounds like for you?"
"Sounds interesting. But what of Lydia?" Darcy turned his head for a second in response to call, nodded, then returned his attention to Elizabeth.
"We'll discuss it later. Lydia may wish to join us. Worth needs me for piquet, so if you'll excuse me?" Elizabeth nodded, having seen Judith walking over. "May I have your hand for the boulanger?"
"But of course, Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth then watched him vanish hurriedly in the direction of the card room. "Judith!"
Chapter 21
"Elizabeth!" Judith sat down next to her. "Isn't this a shocking crush. I can find no one I wish to see."
"How friendly of you. Well if that is your frame of mind...." Elizabeth started to stand up.
"Oh, sit down Elizabeth. If you desert me, I will never forgive you. It looks like Lady Sophia and Colonel Milton are intent on becoming a gossip number. Perhaps she will have better luck with him then she had with Hargreaves."
"I'm rather of the opinion that she was quite well aquatinted with Milton before Hargreaves...um...put a period on his existence." Judith frowned.
"Heavens! I had not thought of that. Are you and Mr. Darcy intending to go to the continent for the summer?" Elizabeth pulled a comical grimace of despair.
"Does anyone speak of anything but the continent for the summer. Mr. Darcy just suggested the idea to me. We have yet to discuss it, and we also have Lydia to consider."
"So that's why you and Mr. Darcy became so sociable so suddenly. How's young Charles?"
"With his nurse at Pemberley. The last report was that he was well. If we go to the continent he will certainly come with us. How's Julian?"
"Which one? The elder has borrowed Mr. Darcy, Lord Hamilton, and Mr. Jenks for piquet, and is in good form. The younger is at Worth with his nurse."
"That's one thing I'm glad not to have?"
"Names?! They have their advantages, I call one name and both come. Worth said that he was Temperley while his father was alive."
"You mean this is the third generation of that name?" Judith's eyes lit up.
"I do believe you are right. Oh dear, poor papa. I did abuse him a lot in the beginning."
"Do you mean that it was meant to be Worth's father who was meant to be your guardian?" Judith nodded. "Oh heavens! Maybe I should be asking after your son, the right honorable Viscount Temperley." Judith started to laugh.
"Please preserve me from such a fate, that name is longer than he is."
"Judith! If you'll excuse her Mrs. Darcy? Judith I need to speak to you."
"Certainly, Lord Worth." Elizabeth dropped a brief curtsey, then turned to see Darcy standing at her elbow. "Mr. Darcy."
"Mrs. Darcy." He bowed formally. "Would you do me the honour of permitting me this dance?"
"But this is not the Boulanger."
"No but it is the Allemande. Coming first in the alphabet I must necessarily dance it before I dance the Boulanger."
"Your logic is to strong, sir. Very well, I will grant you this dance, but only if you explain your logic." Elizabeth curtsied and allowed Darcy to lead her onto the floor.
Lydia sighed softly, thankful for a moment of piece, Milton would arrive any second to secure her for the Allemande. She noted Elizabeth talking to Mr. Darcy. Milton was hurriedly threading his way across the room. Lydia sighed softly once more, and mentally grabbed all her will, acting ability and mental strength. That nap had not done as much good as she had hoped it would.
"Lady Sophia." Lydia turned around and immediately curtsied.
"Lord and Lady Worth. I bid you good evening." Judith dipped a brief curtsey, and Lord Worth bowed briefly.
"We just came to thank you for the service you rendered to us in the matter of Lord Thomlin."
"It was a pleasure." Lydia curtsied again and watched as the Earl and the Countess departed, before turning to Colonel Milton who was standing at her elbow.
"Sophia, my heart, my goddess. Take pity on this poor mortal."
"George! You sneak, why did you not tell me you had arrived."
"I did not wish to disturb the Earl and Countess. Come my heart, you promised me this dance."
"La, sir. You actually wish me to dance with you?"
"I would wish you to do a lot more with me, but a dance will suffice for the present."
"La, sir." Lydia swept a curtsey and extended her hand.
"You go to fast for me, m'sieur."
"You are too modest, my Sophia. But come, or we will not be able to join this set." Lydia allowed him to lead her into the set. "How long have you known Lord Thomlin for?" They separated, then rejoined.
"Only a few days, I was travelling with the Darcy's when they found him lying unconscious. Why do you ask?"
"No real reason, I just heard Lord Worth thanking you and was curious as to why he should." The dance separated them for a fairly extended period.
"He was unconscious, so I volunteered to watch him. That is all, no need to get jealous."
"That is good. I should not like to see Lord Thomlin hurt you. he is a very cold fish."
"And how do you know?"
"I knew him when we were growing up. I would not like to see one you like that in his hands. Will m'lady be kind tonight, I'm lonely. And only Lady Sophia can ease that loneliness."
"So I am back to Lady Sophia. My response, sir, is no. You will have to be lonely for longer." They were separated once again.
"What may I do to either receive a yes, or to atone for the suggestion."
"Don't bring it up again, and that will be sufficient."
"A most gracious lady, and queen." Lydia sank down in a curtsey as the dance ended. Then allowed Milton to lead her off the floor, before sending him to procure her another glass of Negus.
Judith looked up in surprise when Sophia sat down next to her.
"Lady Worth, I do beg your pardon, but I cannot find Mrs. Darcy. I was wondering whether you had seen her?"
"Not since the Allemande. Did you need to speak to her?"
"Not really. But if you see her, could you please give her my excuses, but I will not require transport home." Sophia curtsied briefly, then vanished back into the crowd, leaving Judith to go in search of Elizabeth. She found Elizabeth talking animatedly with a very large gentleman of middle-age.
"Elizabeth!" Judith dropped a quick curtsey to apologize for the interruption, the tall gentleman bowed courteously back.
"Judith! Are you acquainted with Sir Percy Blakeney?" Judith gave a brief shake of her head.
"Not at all. How do you do, sir." Judith dropped another curtsey.
"Sir Percy, this is Lady Judith, the Countess of Worth."
"But of course. I bid both you fair ladies goodnight. Hastings calls." Elizabeth smiled as the tall man walked away into the crowd, he could not vanish because he stood a head and shoulders taller than everyone else.
"So that is Sir Percy. Lady Sophia has been looking for you. She says she will not require transport." Elizabeth nodded.
"Thank you Judith." Judith moved off, and soon Elizabeth went in search of Mr. Darcy.
Lydia watched the departure of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy from the floor, where she was dancing once again with Colonel Milton, it was now twenty minutes at least before she could depart. Milton appeared to have been extending himself to be agreeable, for the whole evening, but at the same time, he was definitely trying to get her slightly intoxicated. As the dance ended, Lydia fought to control a shiver, something was wrong. She did not know what, but something was not right.
Colonel Milton grudgingly handed her over for her next dance. This dance was a fast paced jig, and Lydia was glad for the skill of her partner. A jig with an unskilled dancer was more of a torture than a pleasure, but this one was an exceptional jigger. At the end of the jig, Lydia excused herself from her next dance on the excuse that she was starting to tire. Five minutes later, Judith came to bid her good-bye. shortly after that Lydia watched as the Earl and Countess of Worth departed. Another five minutes and she could depart herself. Five minutes later Lydia bade her hostess and hostess farewell, and was escorted to her chair by a large group of young bucks. Lydia gave the chairman an address in Halfmoon Street, and the chair moved off smoothly.
Lydia paid off the chair, and a couple of minutes later she caught a nearby, and empty cab. She got herself taken to a busy club in Soho. It was with a nod of satisfaction that Lydia recognized a group that entered the club, it was this group that she usually took her cover when leaving this busy little club. Lydia paid off the cabman, and added a hefty tip, to help him hold his tongue. The patrons of the club were not of particularly high class, but they served as extremely good cover for Lydia. Lydia hastily skirted around the dancers, and drinkers alike, she firmly refused several offers to share a drink or take a dance. And very firmly persuaded a very intoxicated man that she had no wish to join him in a nice secluded backroom, but she soon reached the ladies room.
It had taken Lydia quite a while before she had found this place, but it had the advantage of a large and spacious ladies room. It was Lady Sophia who entered the busy little club, but it was Lydia Bennet Wickham who waltzed out an hour later in a very intoxicated condition. She was hanging off the arms of two equally intoxicated ladies, warbling with them about freedom to express a display their opinions. It was about two blocks later that Lydia separated herself from the group and hurried down the dark alley, this particular alley was the closest path to the nearest cab ranks and the more genteel populace. Lydia still could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Chapter 22
It was a soft knock that roused Darcy, a brief pause followed, then the knock sounded again. Darcy untangled himself from the sheets, and walked over to open the door. The sight that met his eyes almost made him recoil.
"Lydia! What on earth..." Before he was interrupted by Lydia.
"No time for that now. Can you dress quickly. It is imperative that I see Grant, and for fairly obvious reasons I cannot go for him myself."
"Were you followed?"
"No." Lydia shook her head definitely.
"Okay, I'll wake Elizabeth, do get cleaned up. Do you need a physician?" Lydia shook her head again.
"Most of the blood is not mine." She turned and walked away towards Elizabeth's dressing room, leaving Darcy to close the door, wake Elizabeth, then to change hurriedly. It was not the first time he was thankful he was not dependent on his valet. Elizabeth was not afraid to show her astonishment and horror at Lydia's appearance.
"Lydia! What happened to you?"
"Not now Lizzie! I'll tell you after Grant has been and gone."
"But, Lydia..."
"Lizzie I need to make this report, and if I break down I will be unable to make the report coherently. Can we please just forget about it until after Grant has left again." Elizabeth frowned, hesitated, then nodded.
"Very well. Now strip while I fill the bath. I'll follow your other requests, but nothing will permit you to see Mr. Grant in blood stained clothes." Lydia docilely undressed, any ordering was relief as it kept her distracted from what happened.
He sat on the bed, trying to bandage up the wound, but with no success. With a sigh he gave up, and standing up he left the room, passed down the hall and knocked on one of the doors at the far end. Twenty seconds later it opened and Worth stuck an irritated head out into the hallway.
"What do you want? Oh it's you Thomlin, but that still holds."
"Some help if possible."
"What with, and while I'm talking, when did you manage to get up?"
"About three hours ago. And right now I would like to pass out again, unfortunately I cannot. Could you please give me a hand, I don't want any of the servants in on this." Worth's head hesitated, then he nodded.
"Very well. Get back to your room, I'll be with you in a minute." Worth's head vanished and Thomlin returned to his room. The business that followed was bloody to say the least, and most of the directions came from the patient, but it was over in fifteen minutes. "I'm really tempted to call a physician."
"Forget it. You call one, and I will leave before he arrives." Worth frowned, and glanced at Judith.
"Judith, you can get back to bed. I could be a while over this." Judith nodded and left the two men, the first white, and strained looking on the bed, the second standing and frowning.
"Now as you won't accept the aid of a Physician, you can at least tell me how you came to stop two bullets with your arm?" Thomlin hesitated, then slowly nodded.
"I'm leaving tomorrow so it won't hurt to tell you. I'm very grateful for what you have done for me. by the way, who do you honestly think I am?" Worth frowned.
"Well I know you are the Viscount Dearling, Lord James Thomlin. I have pretty strong suspicions that you are tied up in intelligence, though which side I am not sure. My brother was doing his best to protect you." Thomlin nodded.
"That makes my job easier. I am in intelligence, I'm a collector."
"Was this the result of a botch up?"
"No, it was a result of direct interference in someone else's business. I'm doing nothing right now, and probably won't be for a while." Thomlin paused.
"How did you get the bullets. You strike me as someone very able to look after themselves."
"As I said, it came from direct interference. I take it I can trust you to keep a secret?" Worth hesitated.
"Yes, but that depends on what it is."
"Let's change that to a deception. Lady Sophia will probably come to ask tomorrow whether I was out of this room tonight. I want you and your wife to assure her that I was in the whole night. The servants will automatically say that I was."
"Why do you want me to say this?"
"Because my continued existence relies very heavily on this not leaking out."
"What happened?" Thomlin hesitated again, then sighed, shifting slightly.
"Grab a seat, this could take a while. First of all, I am a French collector, not a British one."
"I rather suspected that, but continue."
"In that position, I happen to know quite a lot about what is happening in both camps." Thomlin hesitated again. "Quite bluntly I stopped these bullets, in the process of pulling Lady Sophia out of a rather nasty hole."
"Lady Sophia is a British agent I assume?"
"Why do you assume that?"
"Because if she were on your side you would not be determined to blindfold her to the fact and your life would not depend on it not leaking out." Thomlin nodded slowly.
"Direct hit. By the way, I will leave tomorrow."
Grant looked thoughtfully at Lydia as he entered.
"Any damage?" Lydia shook her head.
"Only a slight graze. But Lady Sophia is definitely not an existent person any longer."
"What happened to the owner of the gun?"
"He's deceased. Who ever helped me has a deadly aim with a knife." Grant frowned suddenly, and glanced at Darcy and Elizabeth, and his frown darkened.
"Interesting! I take it you do not know who it was?"
"I do know, but I'm not telling."
"Okay, we'll skip that then, you probably have your reasons. What happened?"
"Ambush in the alley I use to get to the cabs. Who ever saved me was not expected, by the way, Milton will be murdered in tomorrow's paper."
"So Jacques is gone." Grant blinked. "Okay, you are off duty for a bit. Mr. Darcy, are you and your wife intending to go to the continent for the summer?"
"Well we were considering going."
"Go, and take Miss Lydia with you. Lydia, remember to tidy up your act." Grant nodded and left, leaving the small group to look at each other.
"How will Lady Sophia disappear?" Lydia shrugged.
"You will give her apologies. She was suddenly required to her home estates. No wait. Mr. Darcy, could you please stop Grant." Mr. Darcy left the room at a run.
"What of Lydia?"
"We go to the continent. I should be able to get by on black gloves, a few minor changes and I can be a mixture of Lady Sophia and Lydia."
"What of the Worth's?"
"Well they haven't seen me since that meeting. Lady Judith will hold her tongue, and, well Colonel Audley knows me for exactly who I am." Darcy returned with Grant.
"What is it Miss Lydia?"
"Could you arrange for Lady Sophia to die with Milton. Say Milton killed her, then committed suicide." Grant nodded.
"Easily. Now if that's all I need to go." Lydia nodded and the small group watched in silence as Grant left for the second time.
"What happened?"
"I was ambushed, and nearly bumped off. But thanks to a kindly person I was not bumped off."
"How can you be so cool about it?"
"I'm not the slightest bit cool about it, but I would be worse than mama if I were to show agitation whenever I ran a risk with my life." Darcy quietly left the room.
"Why did you do it Lydia?"
"Join this business, do you mean? I really don't know why."
"You must have had a reason." Lydia pulled her legs up underneath herself and frowned.
"You and Jane were always close, and to be honest, you ignored the rest of us. Mary was okay, she liked reading and disliked parties, but Kitty and I were sufficiently young, that you were elder sisters, the people to emulate and worship." Lydia stopped. "I suppose it was because I wanted to do something. You and Jane were the beauties, Mary was accomplished. Kitty is very like mother. I was a bit of a dark horse, and I wanted attention. I learnt very early that I could not get papa's attention, so I got mama's. Then I was introduced to society. I know for a fact I was introduced several years early to society, for the first several months, to the first year, my behavior was not an act. The attention and atmosphere went to my head, I was stupid. Then the militia and Grant arrived, Grant puzzled me from the first, and then I found out what he was about. I already knew who the informers were, and I bluntly told him so. Don't ask how I knew, I just did, it wasn't 'til three months later that I found out he had immediately started negotiations with papa to get me. When papa told me about all this, I was surprised, but delighted, this had got me papa's attention. This was our own secret. After that, well it was interesting, then it became the bank for my sanity. Life with Wickham was hellish to be honest. I apologize for the language, but nothing else fits. I wouldn't drop it now, it is my life, it is fun." Lydia hesitated, then amended the remark. "Well, for the most part it is."
"Judith said that you deliberately provoked Lord Thomlin yesterday." Lydia shrugged.
"I did not wish him to damage the Worth's."
"Would he have?"
"Verbally, yes. In society you know that you frequently have to suppress your emotions, but you invariably release them when you get home. You suppers your emotions for the space of a few hours. Thomlin has had his suppressed for over a six month, it comes with our job. As a result, he is as safe, emotionally, as a time bomb, and on top of this, some fool has tried to bump him off, and has, if anything, exacerbated his temper."
"That is something I don't understand about you. You had a patent dislike and distrust for Thomlin until you heard that he was withdrawn from his assignment. Now he is someone whom you respect. It does not make sense." Lydia laughed.
"I'm not surprised, for those who are not in the work, it must seem very strange. But to be honest, this is only extended to Thomlin, any other would probably continue to be treated with distrust." Lydia paused, frowned then made another amendment. "Well if they remained in England over their periods of no assignment. Thomlin is an oddity, and to be quite honest, I myself cannot explain why we tolerate him. But I expect it has something to do with trying to get him to defect.
Chapter 23
He stood silently, then turned and walked out of the room, the other occupants watched him in silence as he departed. As the door closed the king turned to the footman who was the only other occupant of the room.
"I rather wonder about that young man. He does not strike me as much use, in fact all he seem to have done is cost a lot of money and tell me a lot of information just before the official dispatches arrive." The footman paused, then did not answer. "Who has his loyalties? He is a British peer. He was brought up in revolutionary France, served under Napoleon. I rather wonder whether he has any loyalty to us. He certainly is never polite. One wonders at Napoleon tolerating his manners, but then it was a bit of a rabble." The footman nodded, he was well aware of what his job was. "I do wish you'd try to find out about him, I can find nothing. And I rather feel that Napoleon only appointed him as a political move against the British."
"It would certainly have a distinct political and psychological effect."
"Well you are excused. I will expect a report by tomorrow." The footman bowed and hurriedly left the hall. He was not particularly worried, except for his rudeness, Thomlin appeared to be a harmless individual, and in fact he struck the footman as a weak man. He yelled and blustered at the slightest correction of his methods, and made ridiculous sounding high flown threats when someone questioned his methods.
"Hey, King's Own! Where are you for?" The footman stopped, to see Pierre, an ex-agent from one of Thomlin's groups.
"I'm looking for Thomlin. Have you seen him?"
"He just went into his room. But if I was you I wouldn't go near him for another hour at least yet."
"Why's that?"
"Louis riles him up somewhat, and that on top of these latest happenings has made him damn bad tempered."
"What's happened recently?"
"Jacques was murdered, Thomlin himself is sporting some injuries. And to top that off, Jacques died trying to nail Lady Sophia, that British Tracker. As a result Lady Sophia has vanished and the department have to start form step one again."
"Well I doubt he will hurt me, besides the King's business is always important."
"I wouldn't be so sure." With this remark Pierre moved on, leaving the footman to continue his business.
Thomlin glanced up and scowled when he heard the knock.
"Come in." As the door opened Thomlin erased his face of all expression, but the scowl almost reasserted itself when he saw the footman. "What does the King want now?"
"Nothing at all. I was just coming to be polite."
"Don't waste your time. No one who values their life associates with collectors, least of all my crowd."
"Why are you so impolite?"
"Am I? It makes no difference to me."
"But why, of course it doesn't matter, but it would be just as easy to be polite and would make things much easier with the king for you."
"Nothing will get easier between the king and I unless he agrees to leave my business alone. So far his interference has cost me two men, and nearly me as well. That is something I tolerate from no one, not even my king."
"Would you have taken it from Napoleon?"
"Napoleon never interfered with this business. And if Louis had any brains, he would realize that he shouldn't interfere either."
"Where do your loyalties lie?"
"Are you questioning my loyalties?" The footman couldn't say why, but he suddenly felt very uncomfortable.
"Not I, it is the king." The footman suddenly had the impression of flying, but this sensation ceased when his head came in firm contact with the wall. Dimly through the ringing, and hum in his skull, he could hear Thomlin's voice.
"No one questions the loyalty of a collector. You tell the King that if he does not trust us, then he'll have to appoint our successors, and then wait until the successors kill all of us. Collectors are not questioned, or fired, it is to bad for the health of the initiator of the action." The footman briefly met Thomlin's eyes, and he suddenly realized how Thomlin had got where he was. This was no political appointment, the footman quite clearly read murder in the man's eyes.
"Thomlin!" Suddenly the footman found himself lying on the floor, the pressure gone from around his neck. The room was empty. The footman slowly found his feet again, as his equilibrium returned. He looked around the room curiously, in one corner was a desk and chair, a large chest of draws occupied one wall, and another corner held a pile of blankets. The desk produced very little beyond a bill for a Belgian inn, three years old, and an invitation to dinner from a certain Duke of Avon, which was only a year old. The chest of draws produced several sets of clothing, a guard's uniform, and a British rifleman's uniform. The pile of blankets produced two knives, a pistol and a rapier. the footman frowned, then carefully returned everything to its original position.
"Are you quite finished?" The footman spun to see Thomlin eyeing him in amusement from the doorway. "You had better make your report to the king, and while you're at it tell him that I'll be totally out of contact for a three month." The footman watched in silent amazement as Thomlin pulled off his coat. He had two wrist sheathes on his forearms, into these went the knives from the pile of blankets, then Thomlin pulled his coat on again and walked to the door.
"And remember to thank Pierre, he is the only reason why I didn't break your neck." Thomlin vanished leaving the footman alone. The footman took one more look around the room, shivered, then hurried out of it. That room was not lived in, it was occasionally inhabited, and the footman liked the feel not one bit.
Louis frowned petulantly when he heard the footman's report.
"I am not interested in the contents of his draws. I want to find out what his loyalties are."
"Sire, I should not advise looking into that subject. As he said himself, one does not question the loyalties of a collector."
"But why! I am his sovereign, I have a right to know."
"No, sire."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You are not his sovereign, you have no rights as far as he goes. He is an English peer, and his sovereign is George III." The King's frown became even more petulant and stubborn.
"I want to know!"
"Sire, do you wish this man to defect on us? He knows all there is to be known about French intelligence. If he defects, we will have to restructure the entire division."
"What happened to your neck?" The footman blinked, slightly surprised by this change of subject.
"I got it by asking Thomlin about his loyalties."
"What did he do. Try to break your neck?"
"Yes, the only reason he did not succeed is because he was interrupted. No if you'll excuse me sire. My shift is over and I am tired." Louis nodded, and the footman hurried from the room, he was rather wondering whether he should not give up this prestigious position. It was getting all too bad for his health.
Thomlin took a deep breath of air as he cleared the palace confines, admittedly, the king would probably be a bit upset when he discovered that Thomlin could come and go undetected, but that didn't matter. If the report were right, Thomlin would not need to worry much longer about the stuffy monarch. Thomlin gathered his legs and started to run, a long slow rhythmic stride that covered large distances. But before he attended to that, he needed to get Devil back, he hoped that Lydia had left him with Mr. Bennet, if she hadn't, well he really didn't know what he'd do. Thomlin suddenly stopped running, this couldn't be happening, not to him, and certainly not now. Thomlin put his head down and continued running, but at a faster pace, until the throbbing in his arm and neck became so savage that he was forced to stop.
Chapter 24
Mr. Bennet looked up as he heard a horse come trotting up to the front door, he could hear Hill open the door, and after a few moments of conversation Hill entered the room.
"Mr. Bennet, sir. A young gentleman would like to see you."
"No name?" Hill inspected a small card in his hand.
"He claims to be one Leon de la Chatelet." Mr. Bennet frowned.
"Show him in Hill." Mr. Bennet laid his book down, and stood up as the young gentleman entered. He was of slight build, and had an open countenance. "Leon de la Chatelet."
"Mr. Bennet." Leon bowed calmly. "My sister had requested that I seek you out if anything happened to her. There is a horse out the front, which we would like you to look after until the owner comes to collect it. I also wish to inform you that my sister Lady Sophia de la Chatelet was murdered, her murderer then committed suicide."
"Thank you for that information. I sincerely feel for you, and I pity that she has gone, but she led a useful life."
"Thank you, m'sieur."
"You were speaking of a horse I was to look after."
"Oh, yes m'sieur. If you will follow me, it is the horse belonging to one Lord James Thomlin, a Devil by name, and a bit of a devil by nature."
"But wait a minute, that horse doesn't trust me. How am I meant to feed it and keep it alive and healthy if I'm not permitted near it?"
"If m'sieur would accompany me, I will introduce m'sieur to the horse. Then you will be able to care for him." Mr. Bennet followed the young man out of the room, and sure enough, Devil was waiting patiently, quietly cropping the grass from the front lawn. Three stable hands were trying to corner him, and Mrs. Bennet was hovering agitatedly at the edge of the drive.
"Mr. Bennet this horse is trying to eat the garden."
"Calm yourself my dear. The horse is only eating the grass, thus saving us from mowing it. James! Hilton! Peter! You waste your time, return to your chores." The three stable hands bowed briefly, and hurried away.
"But Mr. Bennet, what is it doing on our front lawn." By this time Kitty and Mary had joined the group on the front steps. "I beg your pardon, sir. Mr. Bennet, who is this young gentleman?" Mr. Bennet sighed.
"This is Leon de la Chatelet, he merely came to do a small delivery on special request from Lady Sophia, his sister. Now if you will excuse us my dear. We have business to attend to." Mary and Kitty were talking in hushed whispers behind Mrs. Bennet's back.
"Kitty, Mary! what are you whispering about. Please say it out loud or do not do it in my presence. It is most impolite of you, especially when my nerves are in such tattered condition. Oh, Hill! Hill!" As the solemn man appeared. "Could you please fetch my salts from my sitting-room. I feel quite faint, my head is aching so, and my poor Lydia has not been to see me since that brief stay last month." Mr. Bennet looked away, and caught sight of Leon standing next to Devil, he appeared to be talking to the horse, intrigued Mr. Bennet descended and approached.
"Please don't approach until your wife and daughters have returned indoors. Devil is getting very unhappy." Mr. Bennet nodded.
"Very well." He returned to the edge of the drive and Mrs. Bennet.
"Please, my dear. Calm yourself. Kitty, Mary, would you please take Mrs. Bennet indoors and give her something to comfort her nerves."
"That is always the same with you, Mr. Bennet. Girls, take your mother away. Oh, my heart is broken!" Mrs. Bennet wailed as she walked into the house, followed by Mary and Kitty. Mr. Bennet then turned back to look at Leon.
"I thank you, sir. Come Devil. If you could come to the west paddock in five minutes sir?" Mr. Bennet nodded, then watched in silence as the slim figure mounted the massive horse and urged it at a brief trot around the edge of the house. Mr. Bennet then turned and re-entered the house. Five minutes later he departed by the library window, and walked briskly to the west paddock. His patience was rewarded by a view of Devil going through his paces once more, as when he had watched Thomlin, he came to realize the advantages of such tack on a horse. Th speed at which the rider could mount and dismount drew his admiration, though he was quite well aware that such tack was only for the young and fit, he also realized the advantage of such tack when the rider suddenly vanished from sight. Originally he though young Leon had been thrown, but as Devil turned, he could see Leon, holding on by halter and stirrup down the side of Devil. Devil turned again and Leon was back on his back and urging Devil at the full gallop towards the fence, a sharp turn and horse and man pulled up directly in front of Mr. Bennet. "You are punctual, sir." Mr. Bennet nodded.
"It is a habit." Leon dismounted, and started to gently rub Devil's heaving sides. "Hold your hand out sir. Palm up, fingers stretched out, like you wish to feed him an apple." Mr. Bennet hesitated, then obeyed, and as he watched, Devil slowly extended his head and sniffed cautiously, before jerking back. "Hush Devil."
"How long could this take?"
"Hard to say, but hopefully no more than the rest of the day." Once again Devil slowly extended his nose to sniff the hand, this time he took his time. "That's right Devil. See, massa's friend no bites." Devil snorted in response.
"He seems to disagree with you."
"Call me Leon. And yes he probably does, but hopefully he will soon allow you to approach, without my holding him here."
"You're holding him?" Leon moved his right arm showing a rope, which was tied to one of Devil's legs.
"If he bolts, I'm in trouble, and a lot of it."
"I can see that."
"Okay I'm letting Devil go. Withdraw your hand and step back from the fence." Mr. Bennet withdrew his hand, and watched in amazement as Leon released the rope and vaulted back over the fence. Devil took off at a tearing gallop across the field. "He should return in a second." They watched in silence as the horse ran.
"That is quite a horse."
"Yes, from what I've heard it was especially selected, possibly even carefully bred, but I could not be sure of that. I sure do wish he was mine, he rides like the wind." It was not for ten minutes that Devil came trotting back to the fence, and he ignored Mr. Bennet. "Oh dear." Leon vaulted back into the field, and soon Devil was once more sniffing at Mr. Bennet's hand, though this time he was not tied. It took another eight hours for Devil to trust Mr. Bennet sufficiently to accept food from him.
"And remember, sir. Devil will trust no one but you, and he has a large dislike of stables, so I advise you to leave him either in this field or another. He will not stray, but neither will anyone but you be trusted to feed him, also do not try to ride him, he will not tolerate it."
"I wasn't actually considering it, I am an indifferent rider at best, and I do not really trust that tack."
"Few people do, which is one reason why Thomlin chose it. The others being that it has some very peculiar uses." Mr. Bennet followed Leon back into the house. The evening meal was a chaotic affair, Mrs. Bennet and Kitty were trying to find out Leon's marital status. Mary wanted his opinion on Fordyce's Sermons, and Mr. Bennet was doing his best to shield him from questions, by keeping asking about certain books, of no interest to Mary. But he still managed to satisfy Mrs. Bennet and Kitty. Yes he was married, and Mary, he had to admit he had never heard of Fordyce's Sermons. And if he had more time he would have been delighted to find out about these books, but unfortunately he must depart on the morrow. It must be admitted that all the recipients were disappointed by the responses, but this did not prevent them from asking questions, and trying to interest him further in their choice subjects. Mr. Bennet found it difficult to contain his laughter at the sober interest Leon displayed when requested by Mrs. Bennet to inspect her lace, newly received from London. Mr. Bennet also found he had to admit, this was one thing he would probably never forgive Elizabeth for. She had sent it as a present, and Mrs. Bennet had never been silent about it since, all Meryton had to admire it. Lady Lucas was to be envious, and she was going to get a new gown made to match it. Leon and Mr. Bennet retreated to port and the library as soon as the meal was over.
"I must admit sir, I rather wonder how you stand that all the time."
"It is rarely that bad, blame it on your aristocratic countenance and patience. Mr. Darcy, my son-in-law, was the only man who ever went through one of our meals without being given the first degree questioning into his life, habits, morals, and marital status."
"And how did he do that?"
"By looking down his nose and answering not a single question the first time he was seen in Meryton, after all, 10,000 pounds adds up to nothing if the man is slighting of the local beauties."
"That is a point, sir."
"Very well, cut out the stirring, what's happened?"
Chapter 25
Thomlin eyed the horse with distaste, but mounted anyway, half a day and he would have Devil back, unless, of course he was not in Hertfordshire. It was not that there was something wrong with the horse the landlord had produced, in fact it was a very good horse, but as Thomlin had said on more than one occasion, it was not Devil. He rather wondered what he would do when Devil became to old, and he had to admit, he was not looking forward to that day, but thankfully that day was several years off yet, and it was quite possible that he would predecease Devil's retirement. But he also admitted that if the last case occurred, he knew exactly where Devil was going. It was a pleasant day for riding, and Thomlin was glad his horse was not a shuffler, a shuffler in such weather would have been totally intolerable. Thomlin pulled his thoughts up with a jolt, he couldn't go getting distracted on an untrained horse, though he had to admit that it appeared he couldn't get distracted on a trained horse either. He resolutely shook his head and put all his thoughts aside, turning his attention to the task of finding the quickest route to Longbourn.
Mr Bennet looked up and frowned as he heard the sound of a horse once more approach the house.
"Mr. Bennet, why is it that you are getting so many visitors right now?" Mr. Bennet closed his eyes and sighed as Mrs. Bennet's voice cut piercingly through the house, he rather wondered why on days like this he had ever married her. But at the same time he had to admit that this same temperament caused him endless amusement.
"Mr. Bennet, sir." Mr. Bennet looked up to see Hill standing in the doorway.
"What is it Hill?"
"A Lord Thomlin to see you. He seems to be in hurry."
"Show him in Hill." Mr. Bennet laid his book aside, and pushed the chess board aside, before standing up and walking to the window. He turned at Thomlin's entry, and eyed the man thoughtfully.
"So you have come for Devil, have you?" Thomlin hesitated, then nodded.
"Yes, sir."
"Take a seat, Thomlin. Don't worry, Devil is in good health, I just want to talk to Walker James for a bit before Lord Thomlin is taken to Devil." Thomlin hesitated, then nodded and sat down.
"Very well, sir. Walker James awaits."
"I take it you are aware that Lady Sophia is dead."
"Is Lydia Wickham also dead?" Mr. Bennet shot him a very shrewd glance, and nodded.
"I thought as much, and I was warned as much. Lydia Wickham is still alive and is in good condition." Thomlin nodded.
"That is good, please continue, sir."
"I am rather curious about your part in this whole proceeding. If my information and deductions are correct, you played very critical role. Don't worry, I won't tell anybody." Thomlin sank back in his chair and thoughtfully eyed Mr. Bennet.
"I do not understand you at all, sir. For the most part you appear to be a bit of a fool, but on occasion you produce the most astonishing questions. Why do you think I was involved with the business of Lady Sophia?"
"For the simple reason that you forgot to remove your ring." Thomlin frowned.
"I beg your pardon, sir?"
"Take my hand." Thomlin hesitated. "Just take it, you'll soon realize what I am referring too." Thomlin hesitated a moment longer, then took the proffered hand, and he almost immediately felt what Mr. Bennet was referring to. The rings might not appear as particularly noticeable, but the outline of the flower was very noticeable when held. "These rings were originally part of a scheme to aid identification in dark places, and you may recall that Lady Sophia grabbed your hand after you placed it over her mouth. Probably her original intent was to try and get free, but she hit the ring and immediately stopped fighting. Why did you interfere?" Thomlin had returned to his seat and was now restlessly twisting his ring.
"To be honest, sir. It suited nobody's plan, least of all mine, for Lady Sophia to actually die."
"You realize what will happen if this leaks out."
"Yes." Mr. Bennet fell silent and eyed the young man.
"You are very stubborn." Mr. Bennet sighed. "Okay. Who helped deal with the bullet wounds?"
"What wounds?" Mr. Bennet reached out slightly quicker than the unsuspecting Thomlin could react and firmly closed his hand around Thomlin's left upper arm. Thomlin nearly passed out as the barely controlled pain shot out of control and went racing up through his shoulder.
"Those wounds." Thomlin shook his head gently. "My apologies for that, but it would not be necessary if you would trust me."
"I do trust you, it's just..." Thomlin shrugged one shoulder in a helpless manner. "I rarely tell anything, things like that are considered a weakness, I am the invincible, I feel no pain."
"Otherwise called damn stubbornness. Now spill it. Who helped with those bullet wounds?"
"Lord Worth."
"He knows who you are?" Thomlin nodded.
"I told him just before I left." Mr. Bennet nodded.
"All right, now back to the original question. Why did you interfere?"
"I've already told you, sir. I interfered because it did not suit anyone's plans for her to become deceased."
"That is only part of it. You would not have interfered unless there was also some other reason. Or are you going to tell me that you murder your own men on whim." Thomlin whitened and flinched. "I certainly never believed you capable of such conduct. And I certainly don't think it was even near your line of duty. Now I want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."
"I'm sorry, sir. But I cannot tell you the whole truth, it is not my right to tell, but let me assure you, I did it to uphold my principles. And also I tried every other method that I could think up before I took such action. Unfortunately it did not occur to me until later to just kidnap her between the ball and the club in Soho." Mr. Bennet eyed the pale young man, and felt pity.
"You had better put it behind you and forget about it then."
"And how in hell am I meant to replace Jacques?"
"Don't. You will never be able to replace Jacques, and this is because you grew up with him. Now come, Devil awaits you. Oh, and here is your tack." Thomlin took the tack gingerly and followed Mr. Bennet out into the yard. "He's in the west paddock." Mr. Bennet then turned and returned to the library. He hoped Thomlin would return, he knew for a fact that if Thomlin did not return, he would never see Thomlin again. With a sigh he sat down at his desk and dropped his head into his hands, he hoped with all his might that he had not pushed Thomlin too far, if he had. Mr. Bennet did not like that thought, and resolutely turned his thoughts aside, and picking up his book and pulling his chess board towards himself he resolutely set about solving this last puzzle. If the book believed that the blacks could win within six moves, then he was going to find out, without reading the method.
Thomlin stood quietly watching through the window, he sat like a broken man for most of a moment, and then he resolutely shook his head and set about solving some chess problem. Pieces moved, and Thomlin continued to watch, while Devil softly waffled and nudged him, then Thomlin laid a firm hand on Devil's nose and led him away.
"We can't do it Devil. Not yet, I will not break that oath, and I know what he feared." Devil waffled again, digging at the pocket of Thomlin's coat. Thomlin chuckled. "Oh Devil, cease living up to your name." Thomlin pulled the sugar lumps out and slowly fed them to Devil. "I wonder what the truth really is. Isn't it strange, Devil, I told Mr. Bennet that I could not tell the truth because it was not my right, when the truth was really, I don't know. I wonder if that is counted a lie, or just a slight twisting of the truth. Why did I do it? I wish you could tell me Devil?" Devil waffled again. "Sorry, I have no more sugar. Please pay attention to the subject in hand." Devil waffled once again. "I suppose you're right." Thomlin sighed as he pushed off the fence and started to walk back to the library windows. "I cannot leave him like that." Thomlin slowly walked back towards the house, Devil following, his head on Thomlin's shoulder. Once again Thomlin stopped silently at the library window, but this time he was not just walking past, this time he was inspecting the scene before he entered. The chess pieces had returned to their original positions and Mr. Bennet had started over again, trying this move, then that, but nothing worked. "It is the 3rd pawn, sir." Mr. Bennet's head lifted and turned, Thomlin was rewarded by the gladness in the older man's eyes.
"You've done this problem before have you?"
"Yes, about a year ago, it took me two nights to realize that it was that lowly pawn. Never forget the pawns, sir."
"Well remember that yourself. Care for a game?" Thomlin nodded and sat down across the table from Mr. Bennet, Devil watched in silence from the window.
Chapter 26
"What is it?" Jack shrugged.
"Some bird to see you, he won't give a name." Grant frowned.
"You're not telling all Jack. How did this man get you to announce him without giving a name?" Jack scowled sullenly.
"He did it Grant, by nearly slitting his throat. I take it that you will agree to the advisability of my presence here not becoming generally known." Grant stared silently at the man who was standing directly, but at a safe distance, behind Jack.
"You are right. Jack, you are excused." The man stepped out of the way, smiled nicely in response to Jack's scowl, then stepped into the room.
"I hope you have no intention of being rude to me." Grant frowned in perplexity.
"What do you want?"
"Just a bit of help, not in the usual line of my work. I have an uncle, Godfrey Calvin by name. This same man, I believe you have no love for." Grant's left eyebrow rose fractionally.
"Well if you want him disposed of I would not count that out of your usual field, and my response would be 'Do your own dirty work'." Thomlin grinned in response.
"Not a bad idea, unfortunately it is not advisable, and it has nothing to do with my intentions. As you said, I could do that sort of stunt myself. No, my problem is that I am a trifle suspicious as to my uncle's handling of certain estates that belong to me. In fact, I'm nearly positive that he is swindling me out of my inheritance. As it is, I am hoping that you might possibly be able to get me a copy of my uncle's complete financial transactions in the past eighteen financial years." Grant's right eyebrow joined his left, and as a team they set out for an extended exploration of his hairline.
"You do like tall orders. Supposing I manage to get all this information, and I am guaranteeing absolutely nothing outside the past four years, how am I supposed to get all this information to you?"
Elizabeth watched, part amusement, part bewilderment, and part admiration as Lydia sorted her way through innumerable bolts of warehouse material. This was a side of Lydia Elizabeth had never been privileged to view, she was patently a woman of gentle birth, who was used to living in straightened circumstances. The material must be of a very predetermined type.
"No blues, I need greens. Preferably the darker green." Lydia stood calmly, attired in a dark, untrimmed, and fairly dowdy gown, her hair was pulled plainly back and secured in a plaited bun. At times she displayed knowledge and intelligence, her decisions were definite, and she took little or no advice from anybody, but on other occasions she was desperately naive and undecided. The cloth must look good, but still last well, she haggled furiously over prices, remorselessly forcing the price down to an acceptable level. But given her choice of different laces and trims, she murkily waded in the fields of indecision and bafflement, the good from the bad she could not tell, the relative prices bewildered her, and eventually she handed all the decisions over to Elizabeth and cast up her hands in despair. Elizabeth had never been inside a haberdashery warehouse, and she was quite sure that Darcy would not like her being there, but it was an interesting experience all the same.
"No Elizabeth, I will make them up myself."
"But Lydia..."
"Elizabeth, I have been making my own dresses for years, how else could I have kept Sophia so quiet? Trust me, I know what I'm doing." Elizabeth shook her head.
"But Lydia, it isn't proper."
"Who cares about propriety, unless you talk no one will know. But if you insist Warren can make the riding habit, I do dislike stitching that heavy material." Elizabeth still had her doubts, but she also realized that to argue would be a total waste of time and energy, for Lydia would never agree.
"Very well. Anything else you wish to do?" Lydia hesitated.
"Well yes, as a matter of fact, there is something else I wish to do. I'll be back before dinner." And with that Lydia finished escorting Elizabeth to the carriage, then turned and vanished into the crowd. With a sigh, Elizabeth signaled for the carriage to return to the Darcy town house.
Grant frowned as Jack entered the room again, he and Thomlin had been discussing methods of sending such a large dispatch undetected without success for nearly the past hour.
"Another visitor with no name?" Jack scowled sullenly, and handed Grant a scrap of paper. Grant glanced at it, then nodded. "Right, in the clear." Jack turned and slouched out of the room, Thomlin was standing indecisively by his chair. "Door to your right if you wish to vanish, it is Sophia." Thomlin hesitated a moment longer than went into the side room. Grant grabbed a pile of reports and a few seconds later Lydia was shown into the room.
"Grant."
"Miss Lydia, I bid you welcome." Lydia nodded quietly, then took a seat.
"We leave on Sunday week."
"Good. What can you tell me of these?" Lydia took the crumpled sheets of paper that Grant held out, and glanced at them briefly, before looking back at Grant. They were scrawled in a coarse hand, and it appeared to be three separate reports, written by three different people, though Lydia doubted that the ink marks had anything to do with the original authors.
"What are they?"
"Observance reports from the South Soho district." Lydia frowned, then carefully started to read the reports. "What do you know of the black coat and the blue coat?" Lydia frowned.
"The blue coat was Milton, well to be precise it was Jaques, the man who was listed to take over when Thomlin becomes deceased. Of black coat I am lost. What should I know of him?"
"Maybe this will help your memory." The next three pieces of paper had rough sketches of a face, all by a different hand, but all of the same face. "These were drawn by the men who wrote those reports. Maybe now you care to explain..." Grant never bothered to finish the question, and Lydia did not answer it, as Thomlin had just entered the room.
"Miss Lydia, Grant. I do beg excuse over this intrusion, but I have run out of time, and I must be going, and going damn quick. In fact I'll be departing via your window. Send word if you get what I was asking over and I'll come collect it."
"Why doesn't he send it to me, and I deliver it?" Thomlin was almost out the window when Lydia spoke up, and he stopped there, to look inquiringly at Grant. Grant nodded, and Thomlin vanished out the window. Lydia returned her gaze to Grant's face, and he was nodding slowly, his face was totally blank.
"Well that was certainly the best way out of it. I think that also could explain the Soho affair." Lydia paused, then shook her head.
"It doesn't, and the only person who could explain it is now beyond our reach."
"Why do you think it doesn't explain it?" Lydia looked in bewilderment at Grant.
"I thought that would be obvious, one doesn't commit that sort of treason without good reason. Grant he killed one off his own men to pull me out of that hole, whatever his motives, they were a lot more complex than wishing to get your aid in pulling financial transaction reports on one Godfrey Calvin." Grant nodded slowly.
"Then what reasons do you have for him taking so much trouble over these same negligible reports?" Lydia shrugged.
"At a guess I'd say that he has some great plan for the revival of the French Empire, but he is manipulating the bits as subtly as possible."
"And you're still willing to play along?" Grant's face had resumed its total lack of expression.
"Nothing else we can do really, or at least not until we find more out about his intentions. And the easiest way to find his intentions out.."
"Is to play along with him for a while. You make your point, I'll see you when your sister and brother-in-law cease their travels." Lydia nodded and stood up, simultaneously pulling on her coat. "You were going to say something else?" Lydia nodded.
"I'd see if you can find out why he left in a hurry, and by the window." Lydia walked hurriedly out of the room, leaving Grant to frown after her in perplexity.
Chapter 27
Elizabeth pushed herself up, and shook her head in partial annoyance, she just couldn't get used to having nothing to do with her packing, but right now, all she wished to do was sit down and be quiet. The corridor was cool, and Elizabeth walked hurriedly in the direction of Lydia's room, last night she had left Lydia, totally surrounded by material, cutting and sewing at a rate that made Elizabeth's arms ache and reminded her of the dressmaker in Meryton. Lydia was still in the same situation, when Elizabeth returned. She sat cross-legged on the bed, attired in some clothes that Elizabeth had never seen, and may it be added on the side that she thought were most indecent, still she was surrounded by piles of material, and Elizabeth could detect little difference, except that the piles had changed color slightly.
"Lydia we are leaving in two hours! Will you be prepared in time?" Lydia glanced up from her work briefly, and nodded.
"Another twenty minutes and I will be ready to walk out the door. And don't look so worried, no one will see me in this attire, which you are patently disapproving off." Elizabeth shook her head, so used was she to society, that she still was astounded by Lydia's bluntness on all subjects.
"But why are you wearing those.....those..."
"Pajamas are what they are called Lizzy. The American Indians use them, and I find them most comfortable for sitting around in." Elizabeth shook her head and started to leave again.
Thomlin gently eased Devil out of his gallop, first to a canter, then to a trot, and finally easing into a walk as he came up to the inn door.
"Easy does it, Devil. We'll call it a halt here, I'm sure the landlord will give you a drink." Devil whickered as Thomlin swung off his back, and with a chuckle Thomlin dug the remains of his sugar supply out of his pocket, and held it out for Devil. "This habit of yours is damnably hard on my coat pockets." Thomlin ran his hands quickly over Devil's legs and back, before throwing the blanket onto Devil's back, and turning to mount the steps to the inn. Devil minced along behind until he reached the bottom step, there he stopped. "Hola, some ale for the King's messenger." The door swung open and a man appeared on the steps, but man was a very loose term, he was badly deformed, a hunch back, with uneven legs and a fused shoulder.
"What's the likes of you doing here?" the tone was suspicious and unwelcoming in the extreme.
"The King's man requesting ale before he falls dead at your feet."
"Better you than me. Come in, and leave that damn horse of yours behind this time."
"Easy Pierre, I did not invite Devil in last time. I take it you have some ale though." Pierre turned and shambled back into the house.
"What do you take me for? Some good, law abiding citizen?" Thomlin followed him up the stairs with a chuckle. "Yer a dirty rogue, James. And I don't give a damn how you take it."
"Then I'll take it as a compliment. Have some ale man." Thomlin dropped into the seat and watched unblinkingly as Pierre drew two tankards of ale before sitting down.
"What's the news from court?"
"Depending on your point of view, it is either disastrous, or pretty normal. Have pity man, give me that ale or I will die at your feet."
"And as before, better you dead at my feet, than me dead at yours." Pierre handed the tankard across and watched as Thomlin disposed of half the tankard's contents. "Dry out is it?" Thomlin nodded. "From whose point of view is the court news disastrous?"
"Mine!" Thomlin set methodically about draining the remaining contents from his tankard.
"What's happened now." Pierre's tone was resigned. Thomlin looked up in surprise.
"Surely I don't always claim that court news is disastrous from my point of view?" Pierre frowned.
"No, you haven't given that report since you stopped by in September of last year." Pierre laughed at Thomlin's grimace. "What's this I hear about you trying to strangle footmen?" Thomlin jolted upright.
"And you ask me for court news? I wasn't trying to strangle him, I was in the process of breaking his neck when Pierre de la Chatelet interrupted."
"What was the man doing? Questioning your loyalty?" Thomlin's grin was crooked, but he nodded, and glanced briefly around the room.
"And considering where I am at this present moment in time, he had a pretty good reason for asking."
"Why try to break his neck, surely you couldn't find a quieter method of persuading him to mind his own business?" Thomlin nodded.
"Definitely, but I had two bullet holes in one arm, I had just got back from an entertaining chat with Louis, and Jaques had....taken his permanent retirement only a few days before."
"That's excuse enough for attempting to break the man's neck, but not enough to actually carry out the deed." Thomlin's shoulders started to shake with inward laughter.
"And I thought I was blood thirsty and a rather nasty specimen. Pierre you make my blood run cold, what's the news from Elba?"
"Napoleon intends to move, present plans say he will be landing in April or may." Thomlin whistled softly as he stood up.
"Things are indeed starting to happen. Ney will be sent to intercept him, but I'm ready to stake my life that Ney and the entire army will defect if he plays his cards right. Anything else?" Pierre shook his head, and grabbing his hat, Thomlin strolled casually out the door and back into the bright autumn sunlight. Conventions in Geneva, Napoleon on the move, Pierre shook his head as he barred the place up against visitors once more, things were no longer fun, France was getting restless again. But hopefully it would hold in check till April, certainly Pierre hoped it would.
Elizabeth stood on the deck, holding firmly to Lydia's arm. They had just completed the crossing, and were waiting while Darcy saw to the disposal of their bags, Elizabeth had just found out, beginning eight hours previously, that sea travel did not agree with her at all. Lydia was staring in annoyance up at the threatening sky.
"Lizzie, I thought you said we were escaping from this sort of weather!" Elizabeth couldn't help but smile at the indignation in Lydia's voice.
"Please, Lydia. I did not say that they had no bad weather here." Lydia looked down from the sky momentarily and glanced at Elizabeth.
"Cheer up, Lizzie. You are not actually dying, nor are you actually going to die soon."
"It is easy for you to be optimistic Lydia, I have nothing left inside me?" Lydia glanced down critically.
"Looks like you actually have most of your internals correctly positioned."
"LYDIA!!!" Lydia started to laugh at Elizabeth's horrified, and mortified tone.
"Relax, Lizzie. Here comes Mr. Darcy, and you can pour out your fears of an early retirement from life to him." Elizabeth gave Lydia a bit of a dirty look, but to herself she had to admit that she was glad she had Lydia along instead of that most depressing maid of hers.
"Ready to go ashore Elizabeth." Darcy extended his arms to both ladies and soon they were descending the ramp. The inn they were spending the night at was a small and comfortable affair, better known for its good food and comfort, then for the pretensions of its surrounding. Francois was the proprietor, and another of the attractions, for those who thought buccaneers were a thing, Francois corrected the impression. Elizabeth could hardly help staring when he greeted them, but Lydia greeted him in a friendly fashion, Darcy had been delayed, thanks to a clumsy cabman. Pierre was flamboyantly attired, his tight waistcoat was sumptuously adorned with lace and trimmings, his white shirt had full sleeves and very tight cuffs and throat, his features were sharp and intelligent, with the most active eyes Elizabeth had ever seen.
"Mademoiselles? I am Francois, the honorable proprietor of this establishment. You are the Darcy ladies? yes?" He cocked his head to one side, then grabbing the few cases that had already arrived he bustled into the inn, Elizabeth and Lydia trailing a short distance behind. The rooms had low roofs and were heavily beamed, but the paneling gave the rooms a cheerful air, and was pronounced to be imminently suitable. Elizabeth lay down, still feeling a trifle nauseous from the voyage, but Lydia descended almost immediately back into the coffee room and parlor, where the occupants were few, but well acquainted with each other and conversation ran cheerfully. Lydia sat quietly in a corner, listening to the conversation that eddied around her, enjoying the restful atmosphere until Darcy poked his head into the room, and beckoned her over.
"Mr. Darcy?"
"Elizabeth wished to speak to you, and the proprietor has set up a meal for us in our rooms. It seems that it does not agree with his notions for us to eat in a room with the locals." Lydia nodded and followed him out of the room, Francois met them on the stairs, where he had been standing, hopping nervously from foot to foot.
Chapter 28
Lydia paused briefly in her room to pick up a spare handkerchief before heading to their other room. Fancois stood outside her door, hopping nervously from foot to foot, it seemed to be his way of standing, but it was most certainly not restful.
"Miss Lydia?" Lydia looked at him sharply.
"Yes." He shoved a scrap of paper into her hand and vanished down the stairs again. Lydia quickly tucked the paper into her reticule and walked calmly into the room. Darcy and Elizabeth were already seated, the table was set, and aromatic soup was already in place, Elizabeth looked a lot less green, and was actually showing quite a degree of interest in the food. Lydia sat down in her place, and soon the meal was underway, the conversation was desultory, Elizabeth was too busy eating, and Darcy not inclined to table talk. Lydia excused herself early on the score of tiredness, and hurried into her room. Lydia handled the paper nervously once she reached her room, unsure of what it might contain, then finally she opened it, and it had three words scrawled across it. 'Watch your back', Lydia inspected the paper from all angles trying to get some other explanation from the message, but nothing else was forthcoming and with a sigh she shoved it back into her reticule and picked up some stitching.
He sat hunched next to the fire, the locals avoided him, but from their demeanor it appeared that he was a relatively frequent visitor. His expression was blank, but his eyes were watching, watching a small cluster of people who were crowded around the bar at the far end, they appeared to be drinking to the health of some venture the thickset young man had proposed. The twitch of a finger, hardly big enough to be seen had Francois to his side, and a few seconds later Francois left the room again. He stood up and slowly walked out of the room, Francois met him in the hall.
"Well?"
"She got it, I can say no more."
"Good, see if you can find out his plans. I cannot have him interfering now." The man paused for a moment. "But neither can I tell him to keep his nose out of this." Francois nodded.
"You want anything else done?"
"Tell me when Pierre leaves." Francois nodded, and watched in silence as the tall figure, no longer hunched, strode out of the inn, and a short distance down the street to where a horse was tethered in the shadows. Francois shook his head and closed the door firmly after him, before turning his attention back to the occupants of his coffee room.
Lydia crouched silently at the window gazing up at the stars which now glimmered coldly down through the crisp air, what was it she was being warned about, who had sent the warning, and how did Francois tie in, if he tied in at all, to the whole thing. Lydia shook her head and gently levered herself onto her feet before turning in the direction of the bed.
"Lydia?!" Lydia stopped at the call.
"Come in, Lizzie." Lydia watched in silence as Elizabeth walked into the room. "What's up?"
"Fitzwilliam wishes to leave first thing tomorrow morning." Lydia nodded.
"Any reason?"
"He has received news of some business to deal with, and we are to make maximum speed to Paris." Lydia nodded.
"I'll be up then, for you and Mr. Darcy, I will sacrifice my beauty sleep, but for no one else would I do it." Elizabeth could not help but laugh at Lydia's theatrical display.
"Thank you." Elizabeth turned and walked out of the room, leaving Lydia to climb into her bed and hunch her toes in underneath herself.
A man hunched miserably in a corner near the harbor wall, his eyes squinting to see through the driving wind and rain, his misshapen form a sure safe guard against the local constabulary and the customs.
"Pierre!" The whisper was short and sharp, and caused the man to relax his position slightly, seconds later a small form emerged from the shadows.
"You want to be more careful, Francois." The voice was soft, but held definite reproof.
"Bah! When did the English schooner arrive?"
"Two hours syne. You should know, they went to your hovel." The smaller man bristled fiercely.
"It is not a hovel, especially not compared to your dump."
"Quiet, the pair of you." A third voice joined the minor squabble, and silenced both of the other men. "Pierre, continue watch and inform me the minute, and I mean the minute you observe anything worth reporting. Francois cut back pronto, your boy just opened the Nantes Brandy." Francois gave an incoherent gurgle and vanished hurriedly into the darkness. The third man dropped down from the top of the wall, to squat next to Pierre. "All clear?" The only response was a nod. "Good. Remember you have a blind spot." The third man vanished back over the wall, leaving Pierre once more to shiver and scan the darkness.
Pierre de la Chatelet looked mutinously up at the landlord, when that inoffensive individual tapped him on the shoulder.
"Your pardon, sir, but we are closing for the night."
"Devil take your closing, I'm going to finish an incomplete job."
"Indeed, sir." The landlord shifted uncomfortably on his feet and glanced around the empty room.
"Yes, indeed I is. I's going to.." Pierre paused to down the rest of his drink and give a sorry sounding hiccup.
"I's going to kill a man."
"Indeed, sir." Pierre nodded sagely.
"I'm going to complete a job which the revolution never finished."
"Oh!"
"Yus!" Pierre flushed and scowled up at the landlord. "Why do you ask?"
"I didn't, sir. It is closing time, would you please depart."
"NO! I's going to kill me thrice damned uncle who avoided execution."
"Indeed." The landlord looked around desperately, hoping that he might receive inspiration from the walls on the subject of removing obnoxious customers. The walls stared blankly back at him.
"And I's going to do it now." Pierre staggered unsteadily to his feet and took a run at the door, but he missed, and crashed into the wall instead. "Hold that door still, how can I go through it if it won't stay still?" Pierre frowned importantly at the landlord, who hurriedly turned to observe his walls once again. Pierre took another run, and this time made it through, but neglected to turn, the result of which piled him heavily onto the opposing wall. Pierre shook his head cautiously, then felt it with equal caution, and finally turned and walked slowly out the main door. The landlord firmly bolted it behind his back.
Francois scratched his head thoughtfully, as he watched a very drunk Pierre de la Chatelet lurched unsteadily down the street. The man had never been like that when he was attached to James' group, come to think of it, James' group was totally sober on all occasions. Pierre would admit that at the same time he had seen them download copious quantities of the amber liquid without showing any effects, at least not to their precision of aim and speed of reactions. But the real question was, would James actually want that scrap of conversation, or was it the drunken ramblings of a fanatic. Francois turned and silently vanished into the shadows, at any rate he would try to find James. Looking for James Thomlin, and actually finding him were two totally different things, and many did the first, but few ever achieved the second. Francois gave a shiver and went to see if Pierre knew where James might be. Pierre did not know, but gave several unhelpful suggestions of where Thomlin might not be found. These included, drunk at the local alehouse and seated tamely behind bars at the local lockup. Francois snorted something rude, then requested that if Pierre saw James again he was to request him to come see Francois, as Francois had something of importance to relate. It was all very well of Mr. James to request instantaneous delivery of important messages, but that was easier said than done when the deliverer did not know where the recipient to be could be found.