Amanda Scott (21 page)

“So the emeralds do exist, and they were left behind,” Diana said, almost to herself.

“Indeed, madame. It was safer for us.”

“Where are they now?”

“With a trusted servant, my dear Milice, who will release them to no one who does not present my signet. My son does not know where they are, nor could he obtain them if he did. I have entrusted my signet to the good Roderick.”

“Lord Roderick is going in search of the jewels?”

The comte nodded. “To be sure, madame, for if my son has informed the First Consul that the jewels are indeed still in France, then my people at the château are in danger. But the good Roderick will go first to Versailles, or to Paris if the Consul has removed to the Tuileries, to discover what has become of my wife and daughter. That was his intent, you know, and I believe him to be an honorable man. He will discover the emeralds only if the doing will not endanger Sophie or Vivienne.”

“Would your son truly put them in danger, monseigneur?”

The comte sighed deeply. “Alas, Bertrand cares for naught but the reclamation of his estates. That is why I could not trust him with the signet. He would attempt to use the emeralds to bribe Napoleon Bonaparte and, me, I know that would be the action of a fool. Bonaparte would take the emeralds and keep Beléchappé, and Bertrand would decorate a dungeon for his trouble. And Sophie and Vivienne would still be in peril.”

“Why did your wife and daughter go to France if the danger was so great for them?” Diana asked gently.

“They do not know Bertrand as I do,” he replied. “My wife adores both her children, but her firstborn…I believe it is so with all mothers, madame. They dislike believing ill of that firstborn child.”

Diana’s hand went of its own accord to rest upon her stomach. No doubt that was true enough, she thought. She would probably believe only the best of her children, all twelve of them. The thought made her smile. “I understand, monseigneur. The Vidame de Lâche begged their assistance, and they went, thinking the danger over.”

“That is so. England is at peace with France, they said. It is safe. But, me, I know this is not so. Still, when Vivienne makes up her mind, she is not always obedient to my will.” He smiled as though he were remembering incidents from the past, then gave himself a little shake, and frowned. “Vivienne is a practical woman, madame. It is that which makes me fear for her. She would repudiate our son if it became clear to her that he meant to betray the family altogether.”

They talked for some time longer. The comte, eating Bath buns and sipping tea, seemed glad to confide in Diana, and she realized he was extraordinarily worried. She remembered thinking he was probably senile. The thought brought a grimace to her lips now. He was not senile at all. He was a shrewd old gentleman who cursed his own infirmities and who worried as much about the young man who had set out to rescue the Beléchappé family as he did about his wife and daughter. At last he leaned back in his chair and gestured ruefully toward the last bun on the plate. “Will you not eat something, madame?”

“No, thank you,” Diana said, rising. “I must go back. My husband will not approve of my having come to you like this, but I was worried. I shall have to reveal to him all that you have told me, monseigneur, but he has friends both in London and in Paris who may be able to help. If Lord Roderick has indeed come to grief, perhaps Andover can help them all.”

The comte nodded. “I do not say that the diplomacy will avail us much, but you will please to thank your husband for his assistance.” He rang for his servant. “Forgive me if I do not rise, madame. Too many Bath buns and too much port.”

The farewells were formal but speedy, and Diana was soon mounted and racing along the London Road toward Osterley again, a disapproving Ned Tredegar at her side. Only after fifteen minutes of hard riding did she remember the precious burden she carried and slow to a safer pace. Thus, it was midafternoon before they rode up the gravel drive to the main entrance of the great house. Flinging her reins to Tredegar, Diana dismounted unaided and ran up the broad sweeping steps to the portico, skirting the giant columns to enter the stair hall.

Without pausing to speak to anyone other than the porter, who informed her that he believed my lord of Andover could be found in his bedchamber preparing to ride out, since his horses had been put to only moments before, Diana hurried up the carpeted stairs, scarcely laying a hand to the exquisite handrail in her hurry. As she sped along the gallery toward their bedchamber, she heard Lydia’s voice calling her name from behind, but she merely waved a hand and hurried on.

The door to the bedchamber opened as she approached and Pettyjohn emerged, his face creased in worry lines. “Ah, my lady,” he said on a note of vast relief. “His lordship has been—”

Diana pushed past him into the room. “Simon, I must—”

“Where the devil have you been?” He turned to face her, dressed for travel. “If you’ve got into some scrape or other through one of your escapades, Diana, so help me—”

“Simon, it’s Rory. He’s—”

“Oh, you’ve heard, have you? Good. Saves me a deal of explaining. I want you to pack your—”

“Heard? Then you know he’s in France?”

“In France, indeed. He’s under arrest in Paris, the idiotic fool. I should have known he’d be up to no good the minute my back was turned. What the devil he hoped to accomplish by getting himself involved in mischief over there, I hope he can tell me when I next lay hands upon him.”

“How did you hear about it?” Diana asked, feeling as if the wind had gone out of her.

“Diplomatic channels, of course, a message from London. Bonaparte will scarcely wish to make more of this than necessary. They’ve charged Rory with crimes against the state, but I daresay they’ll listen to reason. They won’t want to stir the Warringtons any more than necessary. If we’re reading the signs correctly, there will be war again soon, but Bonaparte won’t want the English preparing for it any sooner than he can help. He knows damn well that my father still carries influence with a significant number of men, men who can stir even that fool Addington if they are pushed hard enough. This arrest is a damned nuisance, but it may be more of a nuisance to the French than it is to us. That’s no doubt why they’ve let it be known. No way for them to know who over here knew he was going to Paris, after all. Did you know, by the by?” he demanded suddenly. “You were mighty thick with him at Christmas.”

“N-not exactly,” she hedged. “I certainly didn’t know he’d gone to Paris, but, Simon, you should know—”

“I haven’t time to discuss this, Diana,” he said brusquely. “I want you to get your things packed.”

“Of course,” she agreed. “I’ll tell Marlie to pack only the necessities. You’ll be wanting to leave immediately.” There would be time to explain everything on the way. She moved quickly to pull the bellcord.

Simon stared at her. “Why wouldn’t you pack everything? You’re going back to Alderwood, my girl.”

“Alderwood? Don’t be silly, Simon. I shall go with you. I know a good deal about the matter that you don’t, things you need to know.”

“All I need to know, Diana mine, is that my fool brother has got into a scrape again through his own fault. I can deal with the people in Paris through normal diplomatic channels. And you are not going with me. You are going to Alderwood, where you can help Aunt Ophelia and Susanna prepare to leave for London next month. You can tell Aunt I’m sorry about the alteration in plans, but there was an emergency. I’ve already sent a message to London to have the house opened and to attend to any details she may think of later. She can trust Pennyworth and his wife to see to everything. They’ve been butler and housekeeper there longer than I can remember. They’ll attend to things far better than I could do.”

“Simon, will you listen? I’m going with you. You may not be able to achieve all you wish to achieve through diplomatic channels. You do not know the whole. And if you cannot, it will look a deal less suspicious if you are traveling with your wife, particularly when your wife speaks fluent French. I can help, I know I can. You must not leave me behind!”

“Don’t be nonsensical, Diana. My command of the French language may not be as complete as your own, but I speak it well enough. And I have no time now to discuss your theories about my brother’s misadventure. You should be thanking the Fates at the moment that I do not, since it is not his actions for which I should be demanding explanations, but yours. Where the devil have you been all day? Clearly, you’ve been riding, but if you took anyone with you but Tredegar, I’ve been unable to discover it. Did you have some sort of assignation you’d as soon not discuss with me?”

“No, of course not!” she snapped, her temper soaring beyond control. “I had no intention before of telling you where I went, but—”

That I don’t doubt, and if I were not in a great hurry, I can tell you, my girl, that we would discuss that business thoroughly whether you wanted to tell me about it or not. But since I haven’t time, you will have a week or so at Alderwood to think up a convincing tale to tell me that will keep me from turning you across my knee this time. Now, I’ve already sent ahead to Portsmouth to have the
Sea Maiden
prepared for immediate departure with the first tide tonight, so I must make haste.”

“Simon, if you would only stop being so idiotish, perhaps you might realize that there are other capable people in this world besides yourself! No doubt you have no wish to encumber yourself with a wife when you may enjoy yourself a good deal more without one, but—”

“Enough, Diana.” He snatched up his driving cape from the bed and turned toward the door. “You will obey me this time and without further argument. You go to Alderwood. I’ll speak with Tredegar before I depart, and I daresay that for once you will find him strenuously opposed to following your orders instead of mine. We will talk about all this when I return.”

He was gone on the words, leaving her to stare in stupefaction at the door as it banged behind him. Angrily, she turned away, flinging her hat at the wall. The door opened again behind her.

“You rang, my lady?” It was Miss Floodlind, her dresser, and as Diana turned she saw the thin woman’s long face going properly blank. “Marlie is indisposed, my lady, nor did she expect you to need her until later. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yes, Floodlind, you may begin to pack my things. My lord wishes me to return to Alderwood at once. He has been called away to France on business.”

“Yes, my lady, the news has already reached the hall.” She referred to the servants’ hall, of course, though Diana doubted that Miss Floodlind spent much of her time consorting with common servants. Still, at such a time and place as this, there were a number of her peers in residence. Miss Floodlind quite liked the house party season. She said now in highly cultured tones through her long nose, “We were sorry to hear that Lord Roderick has met with difficulties in Paris, but no doubt my lord will soon see things right.”

“No doubt,” Diana said bitterly. But she smiled when Lydia entered the room a moment later. “Hallo, Lyddy, you find me in one of my tantrums again.”

“I saw Simon,” Lydia said with a sympathetic smile. “He’s in the devil’s own temper. What on earth did you say to him?”

“I wanted to go with him,” Diana said. “He flew into the boughs and ordered me off to Alderwood at once.” She sat down, gesturing to a nearby chair. “I’m so tired of being ordered about, Lyddy. I could help him in France. I know I could.”

“Well, there’s no point pursuing the matter now,” Lydia pointed out practically. “Simon has gone. Is there anything I can do to help you here?”

Miss Floodlind was efficiently removing Diana’s clothing from the wardrobe. “What do you wish to wear, my lady?”

Diana stared at her. “Wear? I don’t know. Surely, Simon does not expect me to leave immediately.” She glanced at Lydia. “It is nearly one hundred miles to Alderwood from here. He cannot have intended for me to leave before morning.”

“No, nor to travel alone,” Lydia reassured her. “He has already spoken to Ethelmoor. We miss the children, you know, and had planned to return to the hall within a day or two, so it will be no inconvenience to us to leave in the morning. I daresay, your brother will wish to be at least the one night on the road. The weather has improved, but at this time of year, of course, it could snow before morning.”

“He planned it all,” Diana muttered. “But he said nothing to me of the details. He just assumed I would do whatever he commanded.”

Lydia eyed her warily. “I don’t like the way you are looking, Diana. Surely, you will not be so foolish as to disobey Simon’s orders. Why, where would you go instead? Moreover, I daresay Ethelmoor will have something to say about that.”

“Everyone has a say, except me,” Diana said bitterly. Then she looked at her sister-in-law and smiled ruefully. “I sound like the spoiled brat everyone thinks me to be, do I not? ’Tis just my mood, Lyddy. Pay me no heed. I am a little tired, I think.”

“You look very tired, indeed, Diana. I cannot think it was wise of you to take so long a ride this morning. We have all been going the pace rather strongly. Perhaps you should rest before dinner.”

Diana agreed to the suggestion immediately, not so much because she needed to rest as because Lydia’s reference to her morning’s ride brought back all that the comte had said to her. She was dismayed to think that because of her own private war with Simon, she had let him leave without putting him in possession of the information she had gleaned from de Vieillard.

Ruthlessly dismissing Miss Floodlind, she plumped down upon the high bed to collect her thoughts. Simon had no notion of what lay before him. Possibly he was right in thinking that Bonaparte would wish to rid himself of the burden of Lord Roderick Warrington as quickly and simply as possible. However, Simon would not be prepared to meet with resistance from his twin, and Diana was certain that Rory would refuse to leave France without Mademoiselle Sophie and her mother. Possibly he would refuse to leave without the emeralds. If, as she suspected from what the comte had told her, de Vieillard had promised him Sophie’s hand in return for her rescue and the retrieval of the treasure, Rory would never consider leaving France without them.