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Chapter 29
The starlight glittered coldly down on the frosty countryside, the cold air biting frigidly through everything. He sat, sunken in reverie, nearly dozing the fire, which slowly sank lower and lower in the hearth. Of his thoughts none could judge, his face was blank, his eyes were masked, and his hands lay motionlessly in his lap. The soft thud of horse hooves on the turf didn't even rouse him, to all but a close observer he would have appeared dead. The window creaked open in protest, in response to the shove of an impatient hand, and a bedraggled, and sullen looking man climbed in, a gun hung loosely in his right hand.
"I have you at last." The gray head turned thoughtfully, and gazed unwinkingly at the intruder.
"So you are Pierre." He said no more, and he moved not a muscle.
"Yes, I am Pierre, the younger." He nodded silently, and Pierre shifted uncomfortably, before the stubborn light came back into his eyes. "YES! I am Pierre de la Chatelet, and I have come to complete the job the revolution left incomplete."
"Leon! What is the noise about?" Mrs. Bennet poked her head nervously into the room.
"Nothing my dear. Go back to bed."
"Oh my poor nerves." Mrs. Bennet withdrew her head and vanished, leaving the two men to face each other again.
"And who might that be?" Mr. Bennet blinked, but said nothing. Pierre scowled and frowned up at the ceiling, before looking around the room.
"Get on with it man, I haven't all day to wait while you make up your mind." Pierre turned his head and looked once more at the man who continued to sit in his chair by the fire.
"I do not understand you my uncle. But may this follow you to your grave. Once a de la Chatelet, always a de la Chatelet, and only one thing can cleans the world of their taint......you will die, my uncle. You will die tonight, and by my hand. For there is no other way you may survive." The eyes never wavered in their thoughtful survey of Pierre, and fear was not even a partial fraction of his expression or demeanor.
"Do you really think that?" His expression was now curious.
"And you will know fear before you go." Mr. Bennet blinked and stared thoughtfully at the fire.
Mrs Bennet sat huddled at the turn in the staircase, when Leon told her to go, he meant for her to go, but she would not go far willingly.
"Mama!" Mrs. Bennet turned her head to see Kitty peeking fearfully out of her room. "Is something the matter?"
"No Kitty, go to bed. We will wake you if something of importance occurs." Kitty looked gravely at her mother, then nodded, vanishing back into her room. Mrs. Bennet turned back to her watch of the library door with a sigh, there were good parts and bad parts to everything, and right now, everything was producing its bad side. The sound of hooves on the drive had Mrs. Bennet on her feet, she did not know what was happening, but it was not good. Gathering up her gown, she hastily descended the stairs and stopped next to the handle of the library. She could hear absolutely nothing, on the other side of the door there was dead silence. A silence that was shattered by the explosion of a heavy bore pistol, in a flash Mrs. Bennet had wrenched opened the library door and vanished in. That evening a gun exploded noisily four times.
Lydia stared tiredly out the window of the carriage, they had been travelling for eight days, but they were finally on their last day, and near Paris. The trip which should normally have taken four days was hindered first by bad horses, and then by the fact that their guide and coachman had fallen ill. Twisting her head around enabled Lydia to see Mr. Darcy and Francois who were riding just behind the carriage. Francois had been a surprising addition to their party the day after their coachman had recovered. His story was that he was on his way to Paris to arrange for some special contact of his not become lax in the delivery of some variety of food, the identity of this food had remained a mystery for the entire time, but Lydia had a pretty good idea that this food, had nothing to do with the comestible type which seemed vital to human survival. A sharp jolt caused Lydia to twist her head, trying to get a better view forward of the coach body, but her view was obscured by ramparts, it appeared that they had finally reached the gates of Paris, with a sigh she relaxed back, as Mr. Darcy came alongside and poked his head in the window.
"We're at the gates Elizabeth, shouldn't be long now." Elizabeth nodded and Mr. Darcy then dropped back out of sight again. There was another jolt and they passed through the gates and into Paris. Soon they were settled at their inn, a comfortable place, similar in style to the one they had stayed in at Calais. Though it must be admitted that the landlord was certainly more of the relaxed and genial host one heard about, than Francois had been. Francois had separated from them at the gates of Paris and vanished into a decidedly dirty looking side street.
Francois shivered slightly as he stood in the dusty, grimy and windy alley. It was so like scum of Jean's type to be late on an occasion like this, especially when it required him, Francois, to stand around looking unobtrusive in such a corner of Paris as this. Francois shook himself, then scrambled to his feet as he saw the lowly Jean shamble into view.
"Vitement, Jean Bonnard. You are worse than your grandfather. Why must you always be late?" The stolid, dark young man made no response, and looked sullenly down at Francois.
"What does the likes of you want 'ere?" Francois frowned in annoyance.
"Ahh, you are of a dullness Jean, why even that scelerat Pierre is a sharp wit compared to you. Hurry man, I do not have all day and the master will be of a fury if I am detained." Jean stood a moment longer in silence, then turned and lumbered slowly back the way he had come. The Crossbow tavern was sordid to say the least, Jean's wife Eugenie was arguing shrilly with some man who appeared to be trying to get a room, a large pot bubbled gloopily over the smoldering fire and dirt lay in piles everywhere. Francois looked around himself and shivered in distaste, he did not consider himself to be very particular about his conditions, but he was rather of the opinion that no human should live in such surroundings, carefully forgetting that he would be in precisely the same situation if he had not been so unwise as to attempt to pick the pocket of a young man he had seen on the street several years previously, that young man later turned out to be James Thomlin, and Francois found at the time, much to his discomfort, that this same person had certain traits which very much belied his appearance.
"There in the backroom, and you can tell your master that I'll thank him to remember that this is a decent tavern, not for the likes of them."
"Tell him yourself." Francois vanished into the backroom as he made the comment and as a result did not see how blanched Jean became at that careless suggestion.
They lounged and slouched over every available piece of furniture and floor, flicking distastefully at the dirt piles. Their attire proclaimed their trade, their ravaged features proclaimed their main form of sustenance, so to did the gin bottles that lay around in odd corners and perched on the chest in the corner.
"So where's the master?" The large woman husked raspily as she took a firm grip on Francois arm. Francois fought to control a shudder, the woman's breath stank of gin and she outsized him and outweighed him by a considerable amount.
"The master is occupied with other things at the present moment." Francois deftly removed his arm from her grip. "He wished for me to give you his apologies, offer you an increase for this interruption, and requested that you might possibly be able to get here next week.
"Well you tell the master that that's just fine with Consuelo, laddie." With raucous laughter and a few coarse jests the women slowly vanished out into the darkness. Leaving Francois to grimace distastefully at the wall, as he slowly rubbed his hand up and down his sleeve. If there was anything he particularly disliked about this business, it was the sources from which a large quantity of the information came from.
Consuelo threaded her way swiftly through the streets, looking neither right nor left as she went, soon she was clear of the dingy part of the town, and into the more upper-class regions where money could be found. Quickly she ducked into a nearby tavern, her usual haunt, and changed into a slightly classier outfit, then checking that her makeup was fine she headed out into the streets. She could not say why, but tonight she was feeling prophetic, she could feel her blood pounding and for some reason she felt that she must hurry, after all, tonight might be all the time there was, and little did Consuelo know how accurate that prophecy would be. Few were ever interested when one of the trade was found in an unusual place, and as a result it took several weeks before the news got totally clear and out into the official files, though, as usual, they were in Thomlin's files before more than a couple of people were even aware that there was to be a corpse seen hanging from a section of the ramparts in a dingy section of town. It had been Francois who had brought Thomlin the breathless news of where she was, and it was Thomlin who found how large her final night had been.
Chapter 30
Fitzwilliam Darcy, fresh returned from his daily horse ride, and unfresh from a total lack of sleep the previous night, sat down with a sigh at the breakfast table, and started to sort through the mail that had overtaken them between Calais and Paris. Lydia was buttering toast in a very determined manner, and Elizabeth was staring distractedly at the very ugly curtains which hung in the windows, trying to decide why they appeared so very ugly, but eventually she decided that it was solely because she disliked the combination of mustard and pink stripes.
"Mail for you Elizabeth. It looks like your mother." Elizabeth took the small letter from Darcy and slit it open hastily, and started to read as Darcy continued sorting through the stack.
"Mama writes that they are well, and that Kitty has met the Clarences finally...Lydia, who are the Clarences?" Lydia glanced up from her toast.
"I believe they moved into Purvis Lodge a two month back. Two girls and a young man of 25 I think." Elizabeth nodded.
"Well that explains why they rank on line two of this letter. It appears that Uncle Phillips has gout, followed by something about papa muttering in Latin about horses."
"He's probably referring to the quote, which I don't really remember, Uncle Gardiner liked it a lot. Something about Gout being a legacy of life or something like that." Darcy smiled but held his tongue, he was quite familiar with the quote that Lydia was referring to, and was in fact surprised that Elizabeth did not remember it.
"Other then that, it seems that Lady Lucas is more uppity than ever, and she ends bewailing that the Collins' will drive them from the house as soon as papa becomes deceased, and that Mary is being most neglectful of some young man, but I cannot read what she wrote about him." Elizabeth folded up the letter and Lydia returned her attention to the toast. "It would appear that life is normal in Meryton." Darcy flicked a letter across to Lydia, two more to Elizabeth and shoved the rest into his pocket.
"It would appear that not only does Mr. Collins send you a large epistle my dear Elizabeth, but it appears that Lady Catherine must also write. One assumes that Anne is finally married." After glancing at the address on hers, Lydia shoved it into her reticule and very firmly returned her attention to her toast, something was in the air, something bad, and she was not going to let it disturb her breakfast. Elizabeth sighed as she opened the letter from Mr. Collins.
"It would appear that Mr. Collins has surpassed himself in the art of verbosity. Fitzwilliam, he has taken thirty-two pages to write what.. I quote him: 'Is to be a short note to tide you over in your hour of need'" Lydia glanced up sharply.
"Your hour of need Elizabeth? I was unaware that you still were interested in him." Darcy choked over his coffee as Elizabeth glared speechlessly at Lydia.
"LYDIA!!!!! You..."Elizabeth stopped, totally lost for words, choked, then started again. "But of course little sister. Did you not know?" Darcy laughter outright at this, as Lydia struggled to control her giggles and Elizabeth doubled over with laughter. "Oh my." Elizabeth wiped her eyes as she recovered. "For that Lydia, you may read his short note." Darcy stood up hastily.
"If you'll excuse me?" Elizabeth nodded, then handed Lydia Mr. Collins' short note. Lydia started to read quickly.
"Lizzie, he has crossed and re-crossed these pages three times, and on pages 1-5 he twenty-two times sends us his sincere condolences about our great loss, he has yet to state what that loss is. Even more times, I lost count at fifty-three, he sends Lady Catherine's sincere condolence's. But he has yet to mention Charlotte, but I suspect...... no I am wrong, Charlotte will remain un-mentioned, he has now gone to quoting innumerable passages from the Bible, Fordyce's sermons and about fifteen other books I've never heard off, and am already wishing were never written." Elizabeth waited silently until Lydia laid the last page down on the table, then lifted her eyebrows.
"Did he ever say why he sent his condolences?" Lydia shook her head.
"No, but I am sure that he took great pains in finding the passages he considered most inspiring. I assume someone has died, see what Lady Catherine says, she is likely to shed a bit more light on the subject....if she ever gets out of the shades of Pemberley." Elizabeth picked up Lady Catherine's prim, one page note and read it through.
"No she doesn't, blames me for so polluting the shades of Pemberley, but otherwise she says nothing that might shed light on the subject of why we receive condolences." Lydia stood up and rolled her shoulders.
"Well perhaps some of Mr. Darcy's mail will spread light on the subject." Elizabeth rose and looked quietly at Lydia.
"I'm frightened Lydia, I do not know why, but something bad has happened. Jane has not written." Elizabeth turned and walked slowly out of the room, leaving Lydia to stare idly at her plate. Lydia looked up as the door closed.
"You are lucky Elizabeth." She said softly, "For I am not frightened, I am terrified and I know already exactly why we are being condoled. I only hope that once again, the official records are wrong." Lydia then quietly left the room, upstairs she drew the letter she had received from her reticule and turned it over thoughtfully in her hands before opening it. Lydia sank down on her bed and stared sightlessly in front of herself.
"Lydia?" Lydia shook herself and looked up at Elizabeth who stood in the doorway. Elizabeth's face was tearstained, but she seemed to be alright.
"What is it Lizzie?"
"Papa. Fitzwilliam says it was Papa who died." Lydia looked thoughtful for a moment.
"Thank you Lizzie. Go sleep, it will do you good." Elizabeth hesitated in the doorway for a moment longer.
"But Lydia..."
"I'm going out, go rest Lizzie." Elizabeth finally turned and left the room. As Elizabeth vanished Lydia was on her feet and hurrying down the stairs. Mr. Darcy had commandeered a small back room as his temporary library, and when Lydia entered his head was sunk in his hands. "Mr. Darcy." Darcy looked up to see Lydia frowning at him.
"What do you want Lydia?" Lydia sat down and looked thoughtfully across at him.
"Why did you not tell Elizabeth the truth?"
"How do you know?" Darcy countered.
"Dispatch from Grant. How will you explain to Elizabeth about Mama, Kitty and Mary?" Mr. Darcy shrugged.
"I do not know, but now is most certainly not the time." Lydia frowned.
"I'm going out, I'll not be back till very late if I return tonight at all. You must tell Lizzie the truth by tomorrow or not tell her at all, you cannot hide it from her." Lydia stood and hurried out of the room, leaving Mr. Darcy to chew thoughtfully on his lip, before turning back to the rather large accounting pile he had to deal with. He had to admit that Lydia had a point, he could not hide it from Elizabeth, but at the same time he really did not relish the prospect of telling Elizabeth that not only was her father dead, but also her mother and two of her younger sisters, and that they had been murdered. Mr. Darcy picked up the brief and official looking dispatch, informing him of the death of one Leon de la Chatelet, ci-devant Marquis de la Chatelet, and his entire family. Executed by decree of the republican government of France. Mr. Darcy stood up and walked to the window, here they were in France, and by a secondary letter from Mr. Bennet, here they were to stay for the present, the letter was dated two days before the official dispatch. It appeared that Mr. Bennet was expecting something of the kind to occur, not that that was much comfort. Mr. Darcy kicked the wall hard before turning back to the desk again. It was a soft knock, five minutes later, which made Mr. Darcy look up, and standing in the doorway was the landlord.
"Your pardon, sir. But this dispatch just arrived for you." Mr. Darcy took the dispatch and turned it over thoughtfully. It was very large and very heavy, the paper that surrounded it was very strong but coarse, and the hand that had addressed it was unfamiliar.
"Thank you." Mr. Darcy waved dismissal to the landlord and laid the dispatch down on the table, considering its size and the postmark he assumed that it was not for him. He turned it over once more, then poking it under his arm, he left the room. Lydia looked up when she heard the knock and hastily climbed off her bed.
"Mr. Darcy." Mr. Darcy held out the large dispatch.
"This just arrived, I assume that you can shed some light on why it has arrived." Lydia took it and turned it over thoughtfully.
"I most certainly can, Mr. Darcy. Thank you very much."
"What is it?" Lydia frowned thoughtfully.
"It's some reports from Grant."
"The truth Lydia."
"That is the truth, they are reports from Grant. I'll see you tomorrow." Lydia firmly closed the door, leaving Mr. Darcy to stare in bewilderment at its blank panels. He could not say why, but suddenly everything seemed to have flown entirely out of his control, he turned and walked towards his room.
Chapter 31
The guard looked in annoyance at the young cub who had dug him out of his office.
"What do you want?" The guard then took a second look at the man standing in the entryway. He was a slim young man, perhaps a whisker below average height, with a pleasant and open face. His hair was neatly secured at his neck with a black ribbon, it was brushed back with none of the normal styling, but the man's dress proclaimed his position, he was most certainly of the aristocracy, and his accent proclaimed him to be British.
"I wish to speak to James Thomlin." The guard frowned.
"What does the likes of you want with that court card?"
"You appear to have no respect for the man." The guard shrugged.
"He is a court card, couldn't hold his own in a fight to save his life."
"Never the less I wish to speak to him." The guard shrugged.
"He'll either be in the main hall being polite to Louis or he'll be in one of those holes they call the rooms for the gentlemen-in-waiting." The young man nodded and turned, walking swiftly towards the main court. The guard watched him go, possibly the lad would be all right, but for now he was still to young.
Thomlin rolled his eyes behind his dropped lids as the King continued to hold forth in pompous style. If there was anything that was really grating on him, it was the sheer verbosity and pomposity of Louis. The man took three sentences to say what normally took two words. The footman entered at the run, looking more than a little unhappy.
"Your Royal Highness." The man sank down onto a bent knee, waiting until he was permitted to rise and state his business. Louis spent fifteen minutes settling some obscure, and in Thomlin's opinion, totally useless bit of business, before he finally turned to the footman.
"You may rise." The footman rose very stiffly, patently fighting the need to rub his knees and reintroduce circulation back into his lower limbs.
"I thank you your Royal Highness. There are two men requesting to see James Thomlin." Louis looked across at Thomlin, who was staring expressionlessly at the far wall.
"Thomlin!" Thomlin dully re-orientated his gaze from the wall to the face of Louis at the monarch's call.
"Your Royal Highness." Thomlin sank down on a knee.
"This footman reports that you have two visitors requesting to see you. Were you expecting to receive any guests today?"
"No your highness." Thomlin stood up again.
"You may admit them." The footman turned smartly and hurried out of the room as soon as the King finished his sentence. Thomlin smiled grimly as he recognised the footman he had tried to strangle nearly a month previously. The footman returned a minute later with two men in tow. The first Thomlin recognised immediately, it was Francois. Francois looking very ruffled, at a guess Thomlin assumed that the quarters where visitors were kept waiting did not line up with Francois' opinion of what should be. The second arrival Thomlin most certainly did not recognise, though the buff breeches and blue coat proclaimed him to be a man of breeding. The two men bowed briefly to Louis, then stood silently. "So you wish to see James Thomlin?" Neither man answered.
"Francois, what are you doing here?" Thomlin walked directly up to Francois and frowned menacingly at the small man. Francois galvanized into noisy and instant speech. His companion continued to stand silently.
"It is your steward, sir. He's been taken awful ill, all complainin' bout what 'is innards are doing. That and how thick his throat feels."
"Which will feel nice and thin compared to your ear if you don't be silent. If your Royal highness will excuse me and my visitors." Thomlin glanced sourly at the two men and went down on bent knee.
"You are excused." Thomlin stood up hurriedly and roughly shuffled the two men out of the room, down a couple of short passageways and into a small cramped room.
"Okay Francois, out with it." Thomlin swung on Francois with a menacing frown. "And it better be good, this is the second time in a week my Steward has taken ill, and I am very loath to find another one." Francois shifted uncomfortably.
"It's the old man, he's mighty unhappy about something. In fact he is refusing to remain put." Thomlin swore, then frowned darkly.
"Okay, get back and tie him up if necessary. I'll come this evening." Francois grinned cheerfully and scurried out the door, leaving Thomlin to frown thoughtfully at his second visitor. "What do you want?" The visitor stared thoughtfully back at Thomlin for a moment.
"An explanation, that is all." Thomlin pulled out his chair, and indicated the only other one in the room.
"If you tell me what I need to explain, then maybe I'll comply." The man took a seat, and frowned.
"The best way to do it is to introduce myself and deal with the second part of my visit. My name is Leon Bennet, my father was Leon Bennet of Longbourn. I received orders to deliver this into your keeping." Leon pulled a bulky package out from under his coat and placed it quietly on the desk. Thomlin glanced momentarily at the package, then back at the face of his visitor.
"Most interesting. Most impressive. I'm afraid I have absolutely no explanation to give." Leon sat back in his chair and issued not a sound, merely watched. In reply, Thomlin did exactly the same thing, he too watched.
"Executed by decree of the Republican Government of France?!" It was a question and statement at the same time.
"So I've heard." Silence fell again, as Leon stared abstractly around the room, and Thomlin calmly inspected the other's riding boots. "You know your taking rather a large risk doing this." Leon's eyes left the blank walls and met Thomlin's.
"I have taken larger risks before." Thomlin nodded quietly.
"Have not we all." Thomlin stood up and stretched gently, glancing simultaneously at his pocket watch. "I must return or my image will be shattered, it would never do for me to be out of attendance for more than half an hour at a time." He walked to the door and then stopped. "Come to tomorrow's ball I may have news for you there." He vanished, leaving Leon to frown thoughtfully at the door panels.
"I'll see the old man this evening....Francois accompanied to Paris......Tomorrow evening, I may have news for you there." Leon shook his head gently and left the room at a brisk stride.
It was a small farmhouse about a mile short of Paris, the owner had left during the terror and by common report it had been deserted ever since. The gardens grew shaggily up to the house and the grass was long and untrimmed, the whole place had a haunting look of disuse. At the sound of approaching hooves the whole countryside seemed to stop still and listen.
"Easy Devil." The comment was soft, but it broke the spell and the night air became alive with noise again. The rider eased of his mount and rapped sharply at the door, the door cracked open slightly in response and a pale gleam struck out into the yard.
"Who's there?"
"Thomlin." The response was brief and to the point, and the rider mounted the steps and pushed into the room. "Anything new since Francois' panic trip?"
"I told him he was a fool." Pierre's grunt was satisfied in sound. "The old Geezer hasn't made a peep since Francois left." Thomlin smiled wryly and then walked into the backroom, which was lit by a single lamp. The rivalry between Pierre and Francois had been going on as long as Thomlin had known the two men, but at the same time Thomlin was willing to stake his worldly wealth, now a stunning three shillings and a sixpence, that the two men would die for the other. They sat in a huddled bunch in one corner, silent and sullen.
"Who is it?" The man's voice was challenging and fairly demanding, the other three occupants didn't even look up.
"It is Walker James. Pierre, you are excused." Pierre shuffled out of the room muttering muffled obscenities about the deities.
"That definite?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then take a seat on this so comfortable floor." Thomlin smiled grimly at Mr. Bennet's hospitality, but took a seat anyway. "Do you care to explain what your two henchmen won't?"
"That is the second time I have been asked that question in one day." The three women had carefully moved themselves away, and now sat silently, watching. "Depending what you want explained depends whether I can explain it."
"And that is probably the same answer as you gave last time. Why we are being accommodated in these palatial surrounds?" Thomlin hesitated, and then glanced thoughtful at the three women, before glancing back at Mr. Bennet.
"Well I'm sure you'll agree that things were getting a trifle exciting when Pierre turned up at Longbourn." Mr. Bennet grunted.
"Could you possibly get us something else to do other than stare at these walls?" Thomlin frowned thoughtfully.
"I could probably let you go altogether...unfortunately.." Thomlin stopped again and chewed his lip thoughtfully.
"Unfortunately what?" Thomlin grunted and continued frowning for a minute, the he stood up silently and vanished out the door. Mr. Bennet stared thoughtfully after Thomlin for a while. "Now wonder...." A pistol barked twice, and Mr. Bennet leapt to his feet. "Back into the corner!" Mr. Bennet gave the order than stood in front of them, his eyes never leaving the door, that being the only way to access the room.
Chapter 33
Thomlin flicked through the pile of paper once again, before pitching it into the corner. It was as he had thought, his uncle had indeed been slowly draining his assets, his amazing wealth, the worth of one of the wealthiest families in England, was now only six shillings and a tuppence. He grinned mirthlessly, here he was living in Versailles itself, lauded as the greatest court card, and he had hardly a penny to bless himself, and no legal means to recover what he had been deprived of. Thomlin then picked up two pages that had been resting on the corner of the desk, time to get back to finding out the full impact of what their scrawled depths held for political Paris in general. One might not like the king, but when he became the only way for you to survive, it became more than usually interesting to keep him alive.....Clerenie....what was he doing at such a place as a ramparts public house, Thomlin frowned and continued working slowly through the two grimy, blood-stained sheets.....Bordeux, Thomlin blinked and then continued to read...yes they were all there, Clerenie, Bordeux, St. Cyr, Markham, Champagne, Terrieux, and Chauvelin. Thomlin frowned at the last name on the list, as his mind skimmed back through the years. Chauvelin...Armand Chauvelin, the man had been the terror of France during his stay, he rose with Robespierre, he fell with Robespierre, he was referred to at the same time as St. Just, and Marat. Still Thomlin could see the small stooped man, who perpetually rubbed his bony hands together, the thin sneering features and the icy eyes. There had only been one man who could instill fear into those eyes. That man Thomlin had seen twice in his life, the first time was after the young Dauphin had been removed from the tower prison, on that occasion he had looked like nothing on Earth, it had been his introduction to methods for getting information out of the unwilling. The second time had been at Orange, at the downfall of Citizen Armand Chauvelin, ci-devant Marquis de Chauvelin. On that occasion he had been a laughing giant, and he had been in the process of preparing the rescue of Fleur Chauvelin, the daughter of Armand. On that day, Thomlin had held in his ten-year-old hands the fate of his first instructor in the arts of internal politics, and polite murder. Thomlin wondered what relation this Chauvelin was to the old one, and whether there was any similarity between the two of them.
"Thomlin." Thomlin spun on his chair to see Jules standing nervously in the doorway.
"Greetings Jules, what is the matter?" Jules shuffled in to stand next to the door.
"There is a gentleman to see you." Thomlin's eyebrows rose.
"And they sent you to announce him...interesting. Admit him." Thomlin watched as the boy turned to leave. "And Jules," the boy turned back. "Tell Etienne I wish to see him in twenty minutes." Jules nodded stiffly and scuttled hurriedly out of the room, as Thomlin turned and stowed his papers in a shallow shelf that looked like a decorative lining at the bottom of his desk. Having dealt with that to his satisfaction he turned and glanced thoughtfully around the room, one chair, looked like he was back to taking visitors perched on the desk. Thomlin then pulled out a mirror and started to fuss with his cravat, after all it would never do to be known as a court card and be seen actually doing something intelligent by an unknown visitor. He stood silently by the door, his thin features sneering as he looked around the room.
"They do believe in spacious rooms for their courtiers. I bid you good afternoon Mr. Thomlin." Thomlin turned and looked thoughtfully at his visitor.
"I believe, m'sieur, that you have the advantage of me."
"Don't let that disturb you, soon you will probably know me all too well."
"And why might that be?" Thomlin returned his mirror to the top draw of his cupboard and sat down on the edge of his desk. "Take a seat, and what may I do you for." The man sat down and stared thoughtfully around the room.
"You certainly go in for the ornate when it comes to decorating your quarters."
"There are some things that are more important than ornate decorations in your room."
"So I've heard, and particularly in your case." Thomlin met the gaze of his visitor blandly, and tilted his head thoughtfully to one side.
"Indeed, I had not thought myself above the average gentleman in waiting."
"Ahh, you under rate yourself my friend."
"In what way?"
"Oh in the elegance of your apparel of course." Thomlin cast a startled glanced down at his riding kit, then glanced back at his visitor.
"I fear you flatter me m'sieur."
"Not at all, you have some incredible similarities with a..... an acquaintance of my second uncle's."
"Indeed, who might your second uncle be, after all, I might be acquainted with his acquaintance. But still I fear you may now be trying to make a fool of me."
"Indeed no, m'sieur. This acquaintance was known for the perfection of his attire." Thomlin hurriedly closed his mouth.
"You came to see me for some reason?" The visitor grinned.
"Most people would take that for a snub."
"Merely take it as a subject change. But all the same I am sure you did not come to discuss my perfect, or otherwise, attire."
"You are quite right, in fact I came to discuss a totally different matter until I was distracted."
"Indeed, well I personally have found that actually stating the subject helps get it discussed."
"That actually is quite a consideration, but I will admit that I originally doubted that you were the person I was after. However, the second uncle I referred to earlier died during the revolution, in fact he was executed on the same day as citizen Robespierre."
"Indeed." Thomlin was looking politely bored.
"Yes, my second uncle was the citizen Chauvelin of the committee of National Security, I have been lead to believe you knew something of him."
"I fear your sources are inaccurate, I was only ten at the time of his death." The visitor looked a bit sad.
"Well would you know someone who might know anything about him?" Thomlin frowned thoughtfully.
"There is an old inn about one hundred miles south, an old man Pierre, I think, runs the place. If there is anything to tell about your second uncle, outside that which is in the public domain, he is probably the most likely to know it."
"This man Pierre, what do you know of him?" Thomlin shrugged.
"Not much, a man Pierre de la Chatelet, was tied up in one of your second uncle's training programs and he said that the man knew about everything that ever occurred in France. I'd send you to him, but he hasn't been back in court for several months now."
"You seem quite well acquainted with the movements in and out of the court of this man?"
"Oh he was extremely rude, I'm required to know about his movements so I can avoid him. He called me a court card." Thomlin hunched his shoulders, and pulling a nail file from a desk draw he started filing his nails back. The visitor sat for another minute or so, before standing up and walking to the door.
"I will bid you good-day m'sieur." But as he turned there was a sharp knock on the door.
"Enter." The man jumped aside as the door swung open and Lieutenant Etienne Beauvais strode into the room. The visitor took one look at Lieutenant Beauvais and hurried his departure out the door, but he still heard the greeting.
"James, good to see you. Who was that squidge who just vanished out the door?"
"Wouldn't have the foggiest Etienne. He was asking questions about his blasted second uncle, didn't listen to half of what he said, far to fatigued."
"You really should join his majesty's armed forces, that will teach you about fatigue."
"I know plenty about it already, you confounded brute. Take a seat, if that chair will hold you." Thomlin chucked the nail file back into his draw, then went and looked out the door, before closing it and returning to his perch on the desk.
"You are damned affected some of the time Thomlin, now the truth about that squidge."
"That squidge is not as squidgey as you think him, his second uncle was our dear Armand."
"Indeed." Etienne bit his finger and stared unwinkingly at Thomlin. "And what did you tell him?"
"Oh I sent him after old Pierre. You coming to the ball tonight?" Etienne grinned.
"You know I wouldn't come near one of your confounded dance parties if you paid me. Heavens man, it's bad enough having to wear dress uniform every other day because the King is doing an inspection of the troops, without spending the entire night in the confounded thing." Thomlin grinned mischievously down at the mountainous man.
"Not even if I specially asked you to attend?"
"Your special asks invariably lead to trouble. Sorry boy, even if you went to the degree of humble pleading, and I know you won't, I wouldn't attend."
"It appears I'll have to appeal to your lamentable curiosity then. I have a message to be delivered at tomorrow's ball and will be unable to do it myself."
"The great Thomlin unable to deliver his own messages... how bizarre and unlike him. Who's the charmer this time?"
"You have a dirty mind Etienne. Have you ever heard of the Lady Sophia de la Chatelet?"
"That the girl you were tearing your hair out over six months ago?" Thomlin nodded, and grinned wryly.
"Correct, she is indeed that person. I need a message delivered to her, and as I am officially on grovel duty as gentleman-in-waiting, I am totally incapable of doing the job."
"Such a polite term for your distinguished position. There are very few who would call being a gentleman-in-waiting grovel duty."
"Well I'm one of them. Will you do the job for me, or do I have to persuade Francois to scrub up and appear like a gentleman instead of his usual self."
"That dear boy is blackmail. Very well, I'll go do some spitting and polishing and at least attempt to look presentable, even though I doubt the guards will let me in."
"They will."
Chapter 34
"Lydia why did you insist that we go to this." Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably in the large and ornate dress she was attired in.
"I insist because it is tradition that you go to Versailles at least once when you are on the continent, and because it is the only way that I'm even remotely likely to get in contact with someone of use."
"In Versailles?" Darcy had a lot of doubt in his voice.
"Yes Mr. Darcy, in Versailles." Lydia relapsed into silence as the coach rattled over the cobbles, she hoped this gamble would pay off without getting all of them in a lot of trouble.
Elizabeth stared in silence at her sister, something was unsettling Lydia, though what it was she didn't know, and she was pretty sure she would never find out. Elizabeth glanced at Fitzwilliam, who looked very like he was trying to be asleep.
"Fitzwilliam." He turned his head and glanced at her.
"What is it?"
"What's going on?"
"I really don't know, but I have since come to the conclusion that I will never know and that I am wasting my time trying to find out. If we are to have any part we will be told beforehand, otherwise it is best to be ignorant."
"But something has Lydia worried, or at any rate very unhappy."
"It is not surprising, she has died twice already in the past month, and at a guess I'd say she's on the verge of dying again. From what I have seen, it is not only annoying, but also fairly expensive to come back to life again."
"But who will die. It is Lydia Bennet Wickham over there, but she was Leon Bennet this afternoon."
"I expect that Leon Bennet will die and that John Smith will emerge in Brussels, but as for the character of John Smith, I am as in the dark as you are."
"But why a man?" Elizabeth fought to keep her voice soft.
"Well it would be singularly impolitic and even less proper for her to go out alone as a girl. Besides which, it is easier to move in breeches and a coat, then in a dress."
"I am not satisfied, why..."
"Elizabeth, I suggest you drop the topic. You don't understand it, I don't understand it, and it is quite possible that not even your sister understands it." Elizabeth relapsed into a dissatisfied silence until the coach pulled up at Versailles.
Thomlin shifted gently under his coat, already the heat was oppressive, but he knew from experience that this was mild compared to what it would end up as. Across the room he could see Etienne dancing with some girl, and from experience he could tell that Etienne was more than a trifle bored. The Darcy party had yet to arrive, but then so did 90% of the people who would end up in the rooms. Thomlin repositioned his chair and gazed blankly at the huge mirrors that sided one side of the hall, an impressive array they made, and were very effective at making the room appear larger and more crowded than it was. Already the smoke from the untrimmed candles were causing a heavy haze to blanket the ceiling.
"Thomlin." Thomlin re-oriented his gaze and eventually it came to rest sleepily on his visitor from that afternoon.
"Ah yes, the man who knew me, and has an uncle."
"It was a second uncle actually, may I take a seat?"
"I guess so, but the person to ask is actually his majesty." Thomlin nodded towards the monarch, who was chewing on some bonbons and taking very little interest in the events going on around himself.
"Well then I'll presume upon his graciousness and take a seat without asking." Thomlin yawned, then frowned.
"You really should ask his permission."
"I suggest we take the gloves off Thomlin."
"I don't box." Thomlin stifled another yawn, then rolled his shoulders gently.
"No I believe you are much more efficient with a sword or pistol. I, Thomlin, am Jaques Chauvelin."
"Is that supposed to be of interest me?"
"It should if you are doing your duty."
"Well it's never been a trait of mine to hold a man's relatives against him, though I will say that your late second uncle was a very nasty and ill-dressed character."
"Not only do you look, but you also sound like his acquaintance, though I will admit that you lack the man's height."
"So your second uncle had a very tall acquaintance who dressed very well and talked like a fool. Interesting, but I suggest you move away before you are mistaken for being one of us."
"I would prefer to talk to you than to preserve my reputation."
"Which means you don't actually have a reputation to preserve. What are you hoping to gain talking to me Jaques Chauvelin. I hold no power in the court, I hold even less outside as I am not even a French citizen. What makes you wish to cultivate my acquaintance?"
"I know who you are Thomlin, we met frequently until you turned fifteen, and I'm afraid to say, you do not change much."
"So you were once that nasty little twit I comprehensively thrashed on no fewer than eight occasions."
"Not the best of subjects to bring up when I am in a position to bring you down."
"Do you really think you could?" Thomlin looked curiously at the man who sat next to him.
"To be honest, no. But I could make life very difficult and uncomfortable for you for quite an extended period of time if I chose to."
"I'll agree with that. But why, other than to renew an old acquaintance, did you come near me?"
"Oh we have a plan simmering away on the republican burner and were wondering..." Thomlin cut in abruptly.
"I'll have nothing to do with a plan which Clerenie has his fingers in." Jaques frowned.
"How do you know who's in on this, we only hatched the plan a couple of nights ago."
"Unfortunately you used a fairly public spot to hatch it and were seen. Now if you'll excuse me." Thomlin stood up and carefully wended his way into a nearby passage way, and was soon jogging swiftly through the long twisting passages that crossed and intercrossed like a rabbit warren.
Jaques stared silently after the man who had just left him.
"It appears my dear uncle that you were right when you were training that gangly boy up. He has indeed become a very devil when it comes to knowing things. And the worst of it is, that I actually gave him a lot more information than he gave me. Clerenie was probably just a blind, but accurate, stab in the dark." Jaques stood up and walked calmly away from the cramped little alcove behind the throne and worked his way through the throng of people to where a man stood, partially concealed, in a small alcove.
"Well what did you get?"
"Very little other than confirmation of what I already knew. He won't have anything to do with something Clerenie has fingers in."
"Damn!" The remark was very annoyed, and had Jaques looking intently at the man.
"And why do you so desire that Thomlin gets tied up in this mess. If he does, it is very likely going to be successful, and to be blunt, I think you have absolutely no intention of it succeeding."
"You are quite right, but I need to find out what happened to Phillipe, the fool never returned from that raid of his on the farm outside Paris. I'm nearly positive that Thomlin's henchmen were successful in preventing his getting hold of Bennet and the rest of his family."
"And what do you expect they did to the corpse?"
"Probably what happened to that corpse the other day. We'll probably hear of him in a week hanging from the ramparts." Jaques shook his head.
"Thomlin is totally original, if he disposes of a corpse, it will be in a method you have never even heard of before, and quite possibly he will incriminate someone else in the process." Jaques bowed his excuses, and walked away, neither man noticed a young woman thoughtfully biting her lip by the curtain.
Etienne glared morosely at the a nearby wall, there were few things he ever expressed a serious dislike of, but his dress uniform was one of them.
"M'sieur." Etienne turned to find he was being addressed by a young lady with a pleasant smile.
"What can I do for you m'lady?"
"I was hoping you might be able to help me find my sister, I last saw her when she was in search of her husband." Etienne lifted his head, scowled when he couldn't see Thomlin, and did a cursory scan of the room.
"I'm afraid I can't help you m'lady."
"Well would you be able to tell me where Lieutenant Etienne Beauvais could be found?"
"Very easily, m'lady. You are speaking to him, what can I do you for?"
"I was told that you were the best person to speak to if I wanted to speak to Mr. James Thomlin."
"What do you want with him?"
"Oh, his steward has announced his recovery, and has withdrawn his notice."
"Well I'm sure he'll be interested to hear that m'lady..." Etienne stopped as he was firmly clapped on the shoulder.
"Etienne, good to see you doing your business. My steward has recovered has he, glad to hear it."
"Where did you go, James?" Thomlin grinned.
"I went to sample the contents of the closest fluid supplier, and am now taking the most direct route back to stand tirelessly at Louis side." Etienne glanced expressively at the Gallery entrance and then back at Thomlin.
"The quickest way, ehh! My boy you are a very bad liar, but it seems that this young lady's sister and husband have finally caught up with her."
Chapter 35
Mr. Charles Thomlin smiled contentedly at his wife, then relaxed back into a semi-comatose condition. They had passed the border a mere two days previously, but already they were relaxing. Arabella, was discussing stitching patterns Rosemary, until she glanced up at her father and mother.
"What are we going to do, papa?" Charles dug himself out of his snooze and smiled.
"Well we are going to start by deciding what each of us is going to do, but we had considered starting an inn. Your mother and I once stayed in a place on the Austrian frontier, which was indeed pleasant. After that, our only other real option is to go to the United States. But what would you girls like to do?" Arabella and Rosemary glanced at each other, then back at Charles.
"Well perhaps if we go see this place, then we can decide. After all, there is little stopping us from doing anything."
"Except perhaps a shortage in the financial department. What do you say Suzanne?" Suzanne nodded comfortably.
"Sounds good, but I certainly would like to settle at Breque, after all, there was that very pleasant inn we stayed at with the farm attachment. And it would be very nice to start cooking again, it is something I have missed a lot." Arabella and Rosemary exchanged glances of surprise. "And don't you two look so stunned, I come from a trade background and cooking is indeed one of my favourite things." Charles started to chuckle softly, but at the same time he wondered whether perhaps he should have done this earlier, mental apathy had not been good for her.
"No Leon, we decided for the girls, not for us. Forget about it." Charles picked up his book and started to read, already she was reading his mind again.
"Lydia." Lydia turned to greet Elizabeth and Darcy as they joined the small group by the wall.
"Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy. Allow me to introduce Lieutenant Etienne Beauvais and Mr. James Thomlin. Lieutenant, Mr. Thomlin, my sister Elizabeth and her husband Mr. Darcy." Greetings were exchange while Lydia's eye wandered over the crowded room. It was a deeply ingrained habit, and its execution was flawless, while appearing to look for a handsome man, she was scanning after possible dangers. "Mr. Thomlin, who is the man in the spangled coat over there?"
"There are at least fifteen in this room in spangled coats, but I assume you are referring to our dear Phillipe Bonnard. I suggest that you ignore him." Elizabeth watched in amazement as Lydia calmly turned back into the group. The man in question was dressed in an olive green coat, his face was fat, but his figure seemed to suggest that the rest of him was not. Elizabeth frowned thoughtfully, where had she seen that face just recently.
"Lizzie." Elizabeth started slightly at Lydia's hiss. "Don't stare at him, I prefer that we remain as a single group and alive." Elizabeth looked blankly at her sister, then glanced at Darcy, who grinned mischievously then shrugged.
"Mrs. Darcy, Miss Lydia, Mr. Darcy. If you will excuse me, I must get back to my duties." Etienne chuckled at Thomlin's grimace and the group watched in silence as the wiry figure threaded swiftly through the crowd, a touch on this shoulder, and a word in that ear, and he was once more seated behind the king. Etienne then turned back to the group.
"Miss Lydia, would you care for this dance?" Lydia glanced at Elizabeth than nodded her acceptance, leaving Elizabeth to talk in private with her husband.
"Fitzwilliam, I have seen that man before, quite recently in fact, but I cannot remember where." Darcy glanced down at Elizabeth, then returned his eyes to watching Lydia and Etienne dancing.
"Well concern yourself with remembering, but do not stare at him....if necessary inspect the smoke patterns on the roof."
"You sir are of a great help."
"I always endeavour to please Madame wife."
"Then how about we have the next dance. Though how one is meant to dance in this sort of dress makes me wonder." Darcy chuckled, then started to lead his wife carefully through the crowd.
"Mr. Darcy." Darcy stared in amazement at the man who had just stopped his progress through the crowd.
"Yes."
"Tell Thomlin from me, and he will know who me is, that he had best start watching his back even more. Bonnard is looking for trouble." The thin man vanished into the sea of people again, leaving Darcy and Elizabeth to exchange astonished glances. Of a certainty, tonight was a night of surprises.
"That's all very well, but how precisely does one speak to a gentleman-in-waiting?"
"I believe you do it by opening your mouth and letting noise out." Elizabeth grinned. "I suggest we consult with Lydia, and the friend the Lieutenant." Darcy shook his head, then started working a passage through the crowd to a point where he could safely await the return of Lydia.
Francois paced slowly, another five minutes then he had orders to leave, he really did dislike these assignments, because so many lives were uselessly, well maybe not so uselessly, lost. It was definitely a high-risk operation. With a sigh he spun and stumped back the way he had come.
"Pssst." Francois scowled darkly at a nearby shadow.
"Stop that, you sound like a damn bad stage production."
"Maybe I am a damn bad stage production. No my friend, just relax, we have your best interests very much in the upper parts of our minds." Francois stiffened as the knife blade snaked around to his throat, whoever his attacker was, they had met before. Francois had absolutely no way of getting his hands to his weapons, but then, neither had he always had weapons upon which to rely, and slowly he relaxed. "Oh know you don't." a sudden bit of extra pressure stopped Francois where he stood, and caused him to frown thoughtfully around the shadowed courtyard. Exactly what he was going to do now he was unsure of, but whatever it was, he would have to do it soon. His captors' movements seemed to signal that the man was looking around as if in search of something. Then suddenly he was swung around by his collar.
"What do you want, guv'nor." He whined miserably.
"Shut up, scum."
"But I ain't doing no harm. Please guv'nor, let me go."
"Oh shut up before I make your silent condition permanent." Francois fell silent and cautiously turned his head about trying to see what his captor was looking for. "Keep still you."
"But guv'nor..." Francois died out as he was caught a ringing cuff around his head.
"I told you to shut up." Francois whimpered softly to himself, and resumed his cautious survey of the empty courtyard. Then he saw it, a faint movement over near the wall. A space of nothing, then another movement, this time a few yards closer.
"Guv'nor, would you please move the knife, it makes me feel 'orribly uncomfortable." Francois felt the blade removed from his throat, but it was replaced almost immediately by a pistol barrel behind his ear.
"Does that ease your discomfort?" The man's tone was sarcastic, causing Francois to bristle.
"No, guv'nor. I much preferred the knife above this 'orrible banger you now have held to my head."
"Shut up, or I'll put both to your head."
"But guv'nor..." A vicious knee in the kidney's silenced Francois momentarily. "You do be jittery, guvnor. 'Ere, perhaps if I were to take the banger, then you might not be so jittery. After all I can cover your back while you does your prowling..." Francois felt it the moment the barrel started to move, and immediately moved his head slightly to the right, just before the stars exploded in his head, but he did not lose consciousness. "'Ee, gov'nor, that's going to make my nob plain ache come tomorrow." The man turned with a curse to hit Francois again when the shadow finally left the shadow and came flying across the courtyard. Francois' captor collapsed with an agonized gurgle as a head came into firm contact with his midriff and the pistol exploded noisily. Francois was on his feet and had possession of both knives and gun before the shadow had finished picking itself up.
"You are a fool Francois. What in curses made you decide to get caught?"
"I was being a fool, guv'nor. You okay?"
"I'm fine thanks, Francois. Though my head is already starting to ache." Francois peered concernedly at the figure who was gently massaging his head.
"I don't think you will be guv'nor. You bleed like a pig already."
"Oh Hell!" The figure immediately stopped rubbing its head and started trying to find the blood source.
"It's your left shoulder, come let's bandage you up. Armand must have left by the other entrance, for he hasn't come out this way."
"Not surprising considering the bloody racket you were making with our friend here. Take him back to headquarters, I'll question him after this confounded ball is over." Francois watched in silence as the figure then turned and stared at the figure on the ground.
"Thomlin." Francois' head shot up at the soft call.
"Over here Etienne, what do you want?"
Chapter 36
Lydia looked curiously at Darcy as she and Lieutenant Beauvais exited the dance floor, then looked at Elizabeth who was frowning thoughtfully in the direction of the king.
"Fitzwilliam." Mr. Darcy turned immediately.
"What is it Elizabeth?"
"It is Mr. Thomlin, he is no longer behind the King." A muffled curse caused Lydia to turn, but Etienne Beauvais was no longer to be seen. She turned back to see that Mr. Darcy was also frowning thoughtfully, but he was frowning at the roof not at the Bourbon Monarch.
"Mr. Darcy, I suggest we move out of the way, there is little we will accomplish standing here." Mr. Darcy immediately took the arms of both ladies and started to make his way through the crowd, when they were halted by a young man who wished to dance with Lydia. Mr. Darcy rolled his eyes at Elizabeth as they continued out of the crush alone.
"What is it with your sister Elizabeth she seems to draw men like a magnet, even when she doesn't want them."
"They all tend to be men of a certain class, and that class tends to be the middle aged military men. The ones who know all that is of interest."
"Quite an accurate remark, maybe it is a studied but unconscious behaviour pattern. However I assume we will have to await the return of either Lydia, or Lord Thomlin, or both." Elizabeth muttered something, but would not elucidate when Darcy asked what she had said.
Elizabeth sat quietly watching the push and flow of people around them, Lydia was dancing an energetic jig with a Colonel with a charming grin, and Lieutenant Beauvais was standing near the door with an annoyed frown on his face. Elizabeth wondered what had upset him, but Darcy had almost simultaneously touched her on the arm. Thomlin had returned to the hall and was once more seated in the alcove, Beauvais was scowling at Thomlin who had thrown him a single apologetic grin and hadn't looked back again. Elizabeth watched as Darcy threaded his way through the crowd and up to Lieutenant Beauvais, they held a brief conversation, which contained many head jerks towards Thomlin, but finally Beauvais nodded and the two men started to thread their way through the crowd towards the throne, as Lydia finally managed to reach Elizabeth without being solicited for another dance.
"I see that Mr. Darcy is about to try and get access to Mr. Thomlin the hard, and direct way.....what is it Lizzie. You look like you have seen a ghost."
"I feel like I have heard a ghost. I hope Fitzwilliam is not long, I have something of importance to relate to him." Lydia frowned, but immediately changed it to a smile as a nervous looking buck approached and asked for her hand in the Boulanger. Lydia nodded her acceptance, then stood up.
"If you'll excuse me Elizabeth?" Elizabeth nodded distractedly, and it was not until after she had left that she realised what Lydia said. Why had Lydia asked her permission to depart, it seemed most strange since she had been ignoring Lydia. Elizabeth shrugged off her bewilderment, and looked up in time to see Mr. Darcy and Beauvais cleared and admitted into the alcove behind the King, a few seconds later three men emerged and vanished down a small side passage, Elizabeth looked to see whom Lydia was dancing with now.
Lydia saw the three men as they vanished down the small side corridor, but she immediately returned her attention to her dance partner, a young buck whose coat was too tight and smile was decidedly nervous. It had been years since she had last analyzed characters by their appearance, and she wasn't about to start now.
"Mademoiselle, you are very beautiful....why have I never met you before?" Lydia laughed quietly, he was in very essence a young buck just out and trying to cut a dash.
"You haven't met me before because I have just arrived in Paris. Where is m'sieur from?" Lydia tilted her head enquiringly.
"I am from the southern mountains." Lydia frowned slightly, as if trying to locate the mountains.
"But of course, I have heard that they are the most beautiful place in the world."
"Of course I would say that they most certainly are, I have lived my entire life there." Lydia smiled enchantingly.
"Ah then they must be indeed the most beautiful place in the world, for what other than the greatest beauty would keep one such as you around for so long."
"I fear mademoiselle flatters me."
"Not at all m'sieur." Lydia sank down in a curtsey as the dance ended and then allowed the young man to escort her from the floor. He was too perfect, things lined up too well. Even when she was unassigned Lydia's instincts told her when she hit a plant, the question was, which side did he belong to.
"Lydia I am fatigued, will you please come with me in search of Mr. Darcy?" Lydia nodded her acceptance and soon they were threading slowly through the crowd. Both ladies were requested on numerous occasions for a dance, but they eventually reached the other end of the hall. Nicely timed for the reappearance of Mr. Darcy and Lieutenant Beauvais from the side passage, Thomlin had almost magically reappeared on his seat behind the King. Lydia looked him narrowly for a minute, then turned joined Elizabeth as Mr. Darcy and Lieutenant Beauvais started to force a path through the crowd. The trip to the outer vestry was much swifter than the trip Lydia and Elizabeth had taken to reach the side passage, people who had ignored two ladies trying to cross the room, gave hurriedly when met by the Lieutenant's massive frame and Mr. Darcy's uncompromising expression. Lydia took two deep breaths of fresh air as one Lackey came to attention, a second went to retrieve the cape and cloaks of Mr. Darcy and the two ladies, and a third went to retrieve their carriage. Around them the courtyard lay in silence, disturbed by not the slightest sound, until the carriage entered the yard. Lydia entered hurriedly, to be followed by Elizabeth then Darcy, Lydia was thankful for the fresh air as the stuffy hall had given her quite a headache, but there was still quite a nip in the breeze and she was more than a bit thankful for the protection afforded by he carriage.
Pierre watched as the carriage turned and slowly left the courtyard with ever increasing speed, before mounting his horse and following at a discreet distance behind the carriage. His orders were explicit, and he had no intention to deviate from them by so much as a letter.
Francois ceased what he was doing to watch the carriage depart and Pierre followed, before returned his attention to the prisoner who was now conscious, and firmly bound in a chair. The man was scowling sullenly over the top of the gag, his features not improved by a puffy nose and a black eye.
"So how about you tell papa what a bad boy you have been and why." Francois gently rubbed the leather padding that covered his right hand, after all it would never do if the prisoner showed too much rough handling.
Thomlin blinked his eyes cautiously as his vision doubled again, he rather hoped this would end soon, it would not do if he was to pass out. With a quick glance around himself he deserted his perch on the chair and vanished into the cooler atmosphere of the side corridor, and soon he was strolling languidly in the direction of the nearest fluid dispenser. Etienne caught up with him before he had gone more than hundred yards.
"James you are a bloody fool."
"Not here Etienne."
"Why don't you plead a headache and leave early."
"And what would that do to my persona?"
"Probably strengthen the side that you are a weakling you couldn't bend a feather to save himself."
"You are so polite Etienne. Unfortunately that is unavailable. Get young Bernard, I wish to know what passed between him and Miss Lydia. She's suspicious of him, his cover is too perfect."
"But that is because it is the truth. To bad you never got to play that part James."
"Nonsense, it would never have done for me to appear nervous. Imagine how much confidence it would give the person I was after." Etienne shook his head, and followed Thomlin up to the liquor cabinet. "Brandy Etienne, or do you prefer something slightly less potent?" Etienne watched in silence as Thomlin drank most of a glass neat.
"I'll have water thanks. You'll become tipsy at this rate."
"Not before I've had at least another glass and started mixing. Water for one Etienne Beauvais coming up. Take a seat, I'm going to enjoy the fresh air for at least a minute." Etienne smiled and grabbed a nearby seat.
"You speak like it will be an hour or so."
"It will most certainly feel like it. Drink up or I will start to feel guilty." Etienne shook his head and downed his water, before reaching to refill the glass. "Come see me tomorrow." And Thomlin had walked from the room. Etienne didn't even twitch an eyelash, he polished off another glass of water, and returned to the ballroom, then took a bow to the King, scowled at Thomlin and stalked out of the room.
Chapter 37
Lydia was slouched in her corner of the carriage, watching the vague outlines of Darcy and Elizabeth's faces.
"What was Thomlin's response to that message?" Lydia started listening at Elizabeth's soft question.
"He didn't answer, just nodded and turned away. He was headed to the nearest cabinet." Lydia's eyebrows shot up at this.
"What did he get Mr. Darcy, and how much?" Mr. Darcy looked up briefly.
"Brandy, neat and half a glass." Lydia grunted and settled back on the cushions.
"Why did you ask Lydia?" Lydia glanced briefly at Elizabeth.
"Call it lamentable curiosity if you like, I had not the slightest idea what those places serve in the way of fluid."
"And brandy is most certainly not a usually served form of refreshment. How about you tell the truth Lydia?" Elizabeth watched as Lydia sat hunched up and silent in her corner, she then turned and glanced at Darcy who was frowning darkly at Lydia. "Lydia!"
"I know nothing, but I have suspicions which are based solely on the form of drink and the amount consumed." Lydia relapsed into silence as Darcy's face creased up in concentration.
"Short of attempting to get well to do in the shortest space of time, I can think of no reason for why he might drink that much in the neat state."
"Which is probably why he did it. For crying out loud, if you wanted to numb your nervous system out, what would you drink?"
"Port first, then brandy if no port was...." Mr. Darcy's voice faded away, leaving Elizabeth as befogged as before.
"What is being discussed here?"
"Reasons for why Thomlin should consume such a large quantity of Brandy. That much would even put Mr. Hurst under the table." Elizabeth frowned in bewilderment at Darcy.
"I do not understand you at all."
"He means that Thomlin polished off enough brandy to make a normal man totally intoxicated, and did not seem a whit the worse for it." Elizabeth grimaced distastefully, not at all impressed by the subject under discussion.
"What do you think are the probabilities that Napoleon will return?" Elizabeth asked at random, and received a chuckle from Lydia.
"Very tactful Lizzie, but Mr. Darcy, we await your answer." Mr. Darcy stared up at the roof of the carriage.
"I think it would be very unwise if he were to return. But admittedly France is full ready for him to return." He paused momentarily. "And being an honest man, I don't blame them. Louis is more of a bore then I realised. What do you think the probabilities of his return are Lydia?" Lydia shifted.
"To be honest, we can expect him within the next month or two, or he will remain put for the next year." Lydia shrugged, "personally I expect he will land in the next month or so. But the matter is very open to discussion and there are only a few people know what is happening at all."
"And Thomlin is one of them....." Elizabeth's voice faded out as the carriage jolted suddenly and started to turn.
"Damn, I was afraid of this."
"Lydia!" Elizabeth couldn't but express her surprise at Lydia's language, and seconds later she was to be so astounded that she couldn't even speak. For Lydia had suddenly dug two pistols out of her gown and handed one to Mr. Darcy.
"Hopefully they will be superfluous, but one can never tell in a place like this."
Pierre spurred the horse forward at a flat-out gallop as the Darcy coach suddenly stopped and started to turn down a side lane. He then leapt off the horse and vanished into the shadows of a nearby building, watching as the horse galloped flat-out passed the coach. The carriage completed its turn and was starting down the rough lane when Pierre finally detached himself from the first shadows, only to vanish into the second patch. He rather hoped that this game of cat and mouse didn't continue for long, though he did have to admit that it was unusual for the mouse to be larger than the cat. Having checked surrounding shadows Pierre moved on, the last thing now would be for him also to be caught.
Thomlin was wrestling to tighten the bandaging around his shoulder when there was a knock on the door.
"In a second." With a final jerk he yanked it tight and hauled his coat back on, then swore as he felt blood starting to ooze down his arm, and wrenched the door open.
"What's up?" The man on the other side was a very nervous looking Francois.
"They never arrived, guv'nor." Thomlin stepped back into the room and having let Francois in he firmly shut the door and stripped of his coat and already blood stained shirt.
"Damn it, you really did have to tell me. What of Pierre?"
"He hasn't showed up yet."
"One assumes that he is therefore on their trail. Give me a hand Francois, this damn thing is not tying tightly enough." Thomlin clamped his teeth firmly, to ward off the impending darkness, and also to bite back a strong to desire to swear.
"That better, guv'nor?" Francois stepped back to admire his handy work. Thomlin tested the arm experimentally then nodded.
"That's fine, now give me a hand into this coat." Thomlin checked that his knives were secured then slid into the coat that Francois was holding. "Get Ginger, I'll meet you on Deauvant." Francois nodded briefly then vanished out of the room, leaving Thomlin to pull several lengths of rope and some irons out of his under desk draw, before he too departed the room. Thomlin hurriedly threaded through the long deserted passages and then out into the cool night air, five minutes later Devil was tacked up and going flat out for Rue Deauvant now was not the time to worry about concealment. If those devils got hold of Lydia there would be hell to pay. Francois and another horseman were waiting at the far end of Deauvant.
"Not worried about concealment are you James."
"Shut up Etienne, why in hell are you here, and I hope you got those extra ropes Francois."
"Right here guv'nor."
"I'm here to carry you when you pass out from intoxication and blood loss."
"Oh shut up, I'm nowhere near that yet. Now move it." The horses moved off at a flat out gallop and no more words passed between the riders till Pierre's horse was found, wandering aimlessly around near a small alley.
"Etienne, stay with the horses. Move it Francois."
"No James, Armand can watch the horses, I'm not moving."
"When did you arrive Armand?" Thomlin turned to the diminutive figure that was standing in the shadows.
"Only just arrived. Napoleon moves tomorrow."
"Good, watch the horses, let's go." Armand watched as the figures vanished into the small alley in bewilderment, it was very unlike Thomlin to be so debonair about news from the Emperor. It appeared that something very important had stirred up Thomlin's crowd, but then Beauvais was not actually one of Thomlin's crowd. Armand was more then a trifle perplexed, but he still gathered the horses together and lead them into the dingy house that operated as a meeting place, it was not his job to understand, he just had to obey.
Lydia strained her eyes trying to get some idea of where they were, but she saw absolutely nothing, not even a glimpse of their captors. She sat back with a sigh and holstered her pistol.
"Mr. Darcy?" He silently returned the pistol.
"What's happening?"
"We're being taken hostage. Remember I am a friend of your sister Lydia's. My name is Carrie Farmer, I am 20 years of age, and I am prone to hysterics.....but they won't believe that." Elizabeth stared in amazement at Lydia, she could hardly even hear what Lydia had said.
"What the..."
"My name is Carrie Farmer, I am 20 years old and I am prone to hysterics." Mr. Darcy took her hand in a firm grip and whispered in her ear.
"Her name is Carrie Farmer, she is 20 years old and she is prone to hysterics. Do not forget it." Elizabeth blinked, then nodded.
"Her name is Carrie Farmer, she is 20 years old and she is prone to hysterics." Darcy smiled and gave her arm a hug.
"That's good, don't forget." Elizabeth snuggled up against Darcy.
"Are we in trouble?"
"Yes."
"What sort?"
"I don't know." Elizabeth heard soft sobbing, that was slowly increasing in volume. "It sounds like Carrie is going into hysterics again, please try to silence her, it helps not at all." Elizabeth cautiously shifted across to sit next to Carrie Farmer, but she soon returned to her seat beside Darcy.
"We have not the means, which was most careless of us. I wonder where the coachman can be headed?" Darcy smiled under cover of the darkness, this was Lizzie Bennet of Longbourn in action. When Mrs. Bennet had hysterics, you ignored her, and discussed some banal subject.
Chapter 38
Pierre suddenly heard a scream, it was loud enough to wake the dead, and caused the man riding near the carriage to curse savagely, then the carriage turned again and vanished into an archway in the wall they had been following for the last three minutes. As the rest of the group followed the carriage into the yard, Pierre paused, wondering whether to follow or wait. Eventually he decided to wait, but that was because the gates had closed and he now had no way of following.
Elizabeth shook her head gently and looked at Lydia who was getting progressively noisy as time had passed, but that scream, not repeated, had been deafening. Mr. Darcy was rubbing his ears and scowling.
"I will remind you in future Elizabeth, that no matter how pleadingly Lydia asks, no acquaintance of hers will accompany us anywhere. When is this carriage going to stop." A few minutes later the carriage slowed, turned and finally stopped.
"All right, hop out, one at a time and keep your hands in the air."
"I won't, I won't, you can't make me. Ohhh! I have done nothing wrong, please....." Elizabeth gasped in horror as Lydia was silenced by a heavy blow to the head.
"Shut up. Get out, and don't even consider any funny business." Darcy climbed out, then reached back to give Elizabeth a hand.
"Stop that!" Darcy looked at the heavy stick for a moment, then looked at Elizabeth.
"I hope you are capable of descending unassisted my dear, they seem reluctant to let me aid you." Elizabeth gave a watery smile and climbed carefully out of the carriage, before turning back to look at the limp form of Lydia.
"What about...Carrie."
"She'll be alright. Follow Jean there, he'll show you your accommodation."
"But..."
"Go or you'll get treated similarly." Darcy immediately tugged Elizabeth after himself and followed the man Jean.
"But Fitzwilliam."
"Quiet." He laid a firm finger against Elizabeth's lips.
"Say no more, you are a British woman and we are not about to show fear." Elizabeth stared up fearfully at Darcy for a moment, then he saw an expression that was once very familiar to him grow in her eyes. It was the expression of unbending resolution, mixed with dislike and pride. He removed his finger and she grinned mischievously up at him.
"Don't you worry. No one touches my acquaintances then gets away with out knowing that I am displeased."
"Nothing rash?" He looked seriously down at her. Elizabeth nodded firmly.
"Nothing rash, nothing scared, they get nothing at all. Not even hysterics." Darcy cast a quick glance at the massive building they were approaching, if anyone got them out of this edifice they would need to have inside information, but he was not about to voice these fears to Elizabeth.
Pierre muttered softly under his breath, then nearly murdered the man who touched him on the shoulder. Nearly murdered the man for the simple reason that the man nearly murdered him first.
"You should be more careful Pierre." Pierre relaxed as Thomlin's voice reached his ears.
"You should have given me more warning." Pierre stood up and straightened his coat carefully, dusting some of the fresh coat of mud off his coat.
"In this neighbourhood, don't be daft. Watch our backs, we're about to go over." Pierre nodded and watched as the small group vanished down the street and around the corner, he then turned and followed them, stopping at the corner and keeping shelter in a handy shadow. The moonlight lit the surroundings eerily, but no noise broke the stillness till a soft whistle informed him that Thomlin was safely over.
Darcy eyed the small room distastefully, but removed his coat almost immediately so Elizabeth could sit on it.
"It appears that our captors do not believe in high class accommodation." Elizabeth smiled up.
"What more can you expect, since we are not paying for this accommodation."
"But that can't stop us from complaining."
"I'd rather you didn't Fitzwilliam." Darcy looked at Elizabeth for a long minute, then nodded.
"Very well I will remain quiet." Elizabeth looked thoughtfully around the room, then frowned.
"This room would be much improved by some curtains. White organdie and pink gingham I think."
"No, I think that a light blue would be better than the pink. But certainly white organdie is the way to head for the main curtain. What do you think they would say if we requested the material?" He looked at her quizzically.
"We could of course always asked." Elizabeth pulled in annoyance at the heavy skirt. "Maybe if we used this....but I will admit that it is a decidedly ugly colour. Where did Lydia get them from?"
"I wouldn't know. Perhaps if we ask her at dinner when we return to England." Elizabeth bit her lip, realising what she had just said, and smiled up at Mr. Darcy.
"That would be actually be quite a good idea. Shall we invite her for dinner, or do you think we can avoid the engagement?"
"I'm sure we can easily avoid the engagement. After all I thought we had intended to spend the summer here, not returning until it is time to return to Pemberley."
"I had forgotten about that, my I will have a lot to share with Jane. I wonder how Charles is doing?" Darcy smiled.
"I'm sure that his housekeeper Mrs. Huddle has everything under control." There were advantages to naming your son after your brother-in-law. "Tell me Madame wife, what is your opinion of Lady Barbara's latest prank?"
"Scandalous, but if she ends up in Brussels she will probably end up marrying the best of Wellington's staff. She is indeed an astonishing woman."
"She takes after her grandmother, but her temper is inherited through her great-grandmother."
"She was French wasn't she?"
"Indeed she was." Darcy stopped as the door creaked open and a figure shambled into the room.
"Here's food, I'll be back for the plates in ten minutes." The figure dumped the tray and shambled out again. Darcy inspected the limp piles upon which stew had been mounded with bread.
"This does not look very appetizing, but I feel that it is the best we will get. Eat up." Darcy took his share and set to work. "I was hard, it tastes good even if it does not look it.
Lydia stared silently up at the heavy stone roof over her head. She remembered very little, in fact she remembered nothing about arriving at where ever she was, but then, considering the condition of her head, that was not altogether surprising. But other than a sore head she seemed intact, so with a wince and a cautious blink, she tried to sit up. No it was far to early to try that yet, Lydia resumed her inspection of the heavy stone ceiling. Not that it helped her decide where she might possibly be, most of the larger buildings in France were made out of the same type of stone, and hence the thousand odd rooms that they surrounded were almost identical. The scream of rusty bolts being drawn withdrew Lydia's attention from the ceiling and focussed it on the door, which creaked protestingly open, admitting the foppish form of the young man who had danced with her earlier at Versailles.
"I see you are finally conscious." The statement was calm and bored.
"What happened?"
"Georges was tired of your shrieking, he hit you over the head." Lydia started to cry again, causing him to look at her in frustration. "Will you be silent, or am I forced to require Georges to hit you again?" Lydia dried up with a couple of sobbing gulps, and sniffed unhappily.
"Why am I here?"
"You are here, my dear Lydia, because you have been making a nuisance of yourself."
"But my name is Carrie, Carrie Farmer." Her eyes brightened. "But I did have a friend in Leeds called Lydia, she was a very good friend of mine. We made Private Hawkins dress up in Mrs. Ourley's ball gown. Lud but it was a laugh." Her expression darkened petulantly. "How has Lydia been making a nuisance of herself, she promised to involve me when ever she had fun." Lydia started to cry again, fetching an impatient yell from the man.
"Georges!" The burly figure soon appeared in the doorway.
"Hit her again, she is being too loud." Lydia dried up again with a sobbing gulp, though tears continued to trickle down her cheeks.
"Are you sure, Bernard?"
"Shut up, and get out." Georges vanished hurriedly out of the room, leaving Lydia to stare in damp bewilderment at Bernard, as her mind raced. Bernard, where had she heard that name recently. Leaving the larger portion of her mind trying to track down Bernard, she returned her attention to what Bernard was saying. "Now if you tell me where everyone is positioned, your sister and brother-in-law will leave unharmed in your company."
"But they aren't my sister, and brother-in-law. I don't even have a sister."
"Lydia, cease this charade. I know who you are."
"Then cease calling me Lydia. My name is Carrie Farmer and I am sick of being called Lydia. Finally I'm clear of her, and what must happen but you must start calling me Lydia." Lydia nearly held her breath as she saw the first glimmerings of doubt in Bernard's eye. She had no expectation of leaving this place alive, Bernard had already told her to much, but with luck she might cause enough doubt that they would release Elizabeth and Darcy relatively unharmed. Lydia's head sank back as Bernard strode out of the room. Reprieve number one, this was one of the few instances when she wished she had worked in a team instead of alone.
Darcy glanced up from his inspection of the room's sole table when the creaked open again. The remnants of dinner had been remove several hours previously. The young man who entered was foppishly attired, his expression caused Darcy to twist his lips up in a sardonic sneer.
"My name is Bernard and I have come to inform you that your sister Lydia is conscious finally."
"But my sisters are all in England. It was Carrie Farmer whom your henchman hit." Elizabeth's expression was bewildered.
"Don't try to fool with me, I am quite well aware of her connection with your family. And I will say that Wickham was by far the worst man we had." This had Darcy on his feet.
"Certainly my sister-in-law married a man called Wickham, George Wickham, a lieutenant in the _foot. But he died some months' back, we haven't seen her since the first couple of months after that occurred, they were not welcome. However Carrie has been with us for our entire trip so far."
"And were you aware that Carrie was acquainted with Lydia?"
"Of course we were aware that she was acquainted with Lydia, but she is the daughter of a respectable farmer in Leeds. I'll thank you not to speak so slightingly of our choice of companions." Bernard flushed and took two steps back in the face of Elizabeth's obvious fury.
"I do apologise, I had been led to believe that it was your sister, Lydia Bennet Wickham you were travelling with."
"Your apologies are accepted, my wife and I would like to know when we may be returned to our coach and our inn. It is getting late and we were intending to leave Paris on the morrow."
"We will consider your request and perhaps give you an answer later." Bernard turned and stalked out of the room, his face contorted with concentrated fury to such a degree that Georges hurriedly concealed himself until Bernard had passed, then followed him down the hall.
Darcy watched as the door closed behind their uninviting host, then sighed and glanced at Elizabeth.
"I fear that this may become more than we bargained for. I do apologise Elizabeth."
"There was nothing you could do about it Fitzwilliam. What I am afraid of is what Carrie is doing, it was almost as if she was expecting this."
"Well try to get some sleep, I'll wake you if anything starts to happen.