Another Small Kingdom (22 page)

Chapter Forty-two

A
way from the club rooms where Darcy had hurried with his news, in the not-so-fashionable district at the back of Faneuil Hall and off Dock Square, a young woman stood at a door in Ann Street listening to a pair of shabby boys. When they had finished whatever it was they were saying she handed them a few coins and closed the door. The boys pocketed the coins and then lounged against the wall waiting. Inside, the young woman went quickly upstairs.

‘He's back, Molly, and our bird is with him. They arrived at his house no more than ten minutes ago.'

‘You're sure it's them?'

‘The boys said it was a pretty young lady and an older man in plain black with travel luggage and he had a key to the front door. It's them all right. What now?'

‘Are the boys still at the door?'

‘Yes, I told them to wait.'

‘Tell them we want a sharp eye kept on our Mr Macleod, where he goes and what callers he gets.'

‘And her?'

‘I doubt she'll come out. She knows no one and speaks no English. How did they arrive?'

‘In an open carriage, just breezed up to the front door large as life. What's he up to, Molly?'

‘He's being clever, Kitty, sharp as a razor our Mr Macleod. Come home with a pretty young woman at your side. Bring her to your door in an open carriage and in she goes. What are people to think, would you say?'

‘He's brought home a fancy bit from his travels to warm his bed and a bit more beside.'

Molly laughed.

‘No, girl, this is Boston not London. This is his home town where he's a respected lawyer and well-thought-of man of business. Over here they don't bring their pretty young lady-friends to their front door in open carriages for all to see. These good puritan gentlemen have them tucked away quiet like, so they can go to church on Sunday with their wives on their arms and their heads held high.'

‘What then?'

‘Lawyer Macleod's gone and got himself a new wife is what they will all say, a lady of breeding from somewhere down South. Leave them alone for a while, they'll say. He'll bring her out to be introduced when they're settled and ready. And that's what he'll do, wait a while then walk her about a bit, show her off and let everyone know she speaks nothing but French. Everyone will lose interest and Macleod can get on with passing her on and getting his money. He thinks he's safe. He'll be in no hurry, why should he be? Take your time and do it right. He's smart all right, but this time I won't underestimate him and remember, he doesn't know we're here. The advantage lies with us this time and we're going to make it count.'

‘How long do we wait?'

‘I arranged with our Navy Captain to get my report to Trent on the next ship bound for London. If Trent got it around the time we made Halifax and shot a man on his way to us, then he should be here before too long. We'll wait three days. Macleod can't move her on in that time. We'll wait three days and watch. If no one has come by then I'll think again. You're sure there's no one else in the house except that old French bag of a housekeeper?'

‘No one. It's well known she's his only servant.'

‘Good. Then we wait. If Trent's man isn't here by then you may well get another chance to use your knife.'

Kitty gave a satisfied smile.

‘And this time we won't miss.'

‘No, this time clever Mr Macleod goes down and he goes down for good.'

Chapter Forty-three

M
arie's arrival at Macleod's home was an unqualified success. Amélie, surprised by their sudden appearance, had been inclined to be crotchety and bad tempered but Marie had taken charge and with a few well-chosen words had won her over completely.

The truth is that Marie had captivated Amélie's shrunken old soul from the minute they had met, stirring fond and powerful memories of her first mistress, Macleod's long dead mother. It was, for Amélie, as if the clock had suddenly been turned back many years and she was young again.

Macleod told her that Marie was a lady in need of help and protection, help and protection that they must provide. He gave no further explanation and Amélie needed none. For her it was enough that here, at last, was another whom she knew instinctively was worth her love and service.

Marie was settled in the living room where the curtains were thrown open and the late afternoon sunshine allowed to stream in and Macleod, after seeing her luggage brought in, joined her. A few minutes later Amélie brought coffee then left to prepare rooms.

‘Well, Marie, you are safe in my home now. You must rest and recover yourself after all that has happened. When you are ready, but only when you are ready, we will talk about what is to be done. Amélie will look after you, she seems already to be fond of you.'

‘Yes. Has she been with you long?'

‘Many, many years.'

‘She is French. I had not expected anyone French here in Boston.'

‘She came from Paris to be maid to my mother in Edinburgh before I was born. I think it must have been a comfort to my mother to have someone close who would talk to her in her native tongue.'

‘She knew you as a child?'

‘She has known me all my life.'

‘She must be very old.'

Macleod laughed.

‘Oh, very old, Marie, even older than me.'

After coffee, Marie disappeared with Amélie and Macleod sat, trying to force his mind away from the pleasure of being back in his own home, to the still unresolved problem of how to get Marie to go to Washington. But his mind seemed unwilling for the task. Whether it was the sunlight or Marie's presence or a combination of both, the house seemed to come alive. Marie brought a freshness to the place and Macleod welcomed it.

Marie finally reappeared just before dinner.

‘Amélie has shown me everything and told me so much.'

Macleod received the news with considerable reservation.

‘Alas, I fear, at her age, she has a poor and unreliable memory.'

‘Indeed? To me her memory seems excellent.'

That evening the meal, even to Macleod's inexpert taste, was delicious, the wine excellent and Amélie, in what looked like a new dress, served them with something bordering on cheerfulness. After the meal they sat for a while together in the living room. Macleod had decided on their arrival that the first and most important thing was to make Marie feel safe and that could not be achieved among explanations or the making of plans. If Marie wished to talk then he would talk. As it was she seemed happy to remain silent wrapped in her own thoughts. Quite suddenly she stood up.

‘I would like to retire now.'

Macleod stood.

‘Certainly.'

He went to the door and was about to shout for Amélie as had been his usual custom but stopped himself, returned and pulled a bell-cord by the fireplace and offered a small silent prayer that the thing, after years of never being used, still worked. He stood and waited and finally Amélie entered.

‘Ah, you heard me ringing for you?'

‘No.'

‘No?'

‘I saw the bell jangling about like a demented thing and supposed you were trying to summon me. The clapper fell out of that bell last time it was used, more years ago than I can remember. You were lucky I was in the kitchen and saw it otherwise you might have waited a pretty time before I came. Why didn't you bellow like you usually do?'

Macleod realised quite well that the performance was for Marie's benefit and accepted it as such.

‘Madame de Valois wishes to retire. Will you take her to her room and assist her?'

‘Of course I will. You don't think I'd let her do it by herself do you? Some of us in this house aren't savages. Come with me, Madame.'

Marie wished Macleod good night and left with Amélie. Macleod, left alone, took up a lamp and went into the library where he sat down in his usual chair, fixed his gaze on the empty, cold fireplace and began again to think about how he was going to get Marie to go willingly to Washington. About an hour later Amélie entered with the whisky tray and a lamp.

‘I'm leaving them here now so as to be ready in case Madame needs me at any time.'

‘Not tonight, Amélie, I won't need the tray tonight, nor any night unless I ask for it.'

Amélie shrugged and turned away.

Macleod returned to his gazing and thinking. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander over the present situation. Marie was in his home. She was, at this very moment preparing to retire. Above, in her bedroom she would be …

He woke suddenly feeling cold and stiff. He had no idea what the time was but, whatever it was, he knew that his bed summoned him. Once in his room he prepared to retire. It may not be, he thought, the best of all possible worlds, but it was certainly a vast improvement on previous experience.

Chapter Forty-four

I
n Congress Square stood the latest monument to Boston's unstoppable progress, the Congress Coffee House and Hotel. It rose massively a full seven storeys, a miracle and a wonder and one of the tallest buildings in the whole of the country. It was built in the Classical style and its pillared and porticoed entrance which fronted on to the Square invited those who could afford it to see for themselves that its outside grandeur was more than matched by its interior.

Outside this entrance, standing on the cobble-stones of the Square beside two large trunks and a small bound box stood a short, stocky individual with a tall hat at a drunken angle over lank grey hair that reached down over his ears. His clothes, though doubtless clean, had a disordered air and he held his arms straight at his sides with his hands clenched into two large fists. Pedestrians passing by avoided him. His face was set in a scowl and while one eye watched the Square, the other seemed to roam madly here and there settling on nothing.

This was Gregory, the manservant pressed on Lord Melford by Jasper Trent.

Suddenly Gregory reached up, snatched off his hat and held it by his side. Lord Melford came out of the hotel entrance, walked to the trunks and nodded at them.

‘This place will do, Gregory. It seems quite habitable, almost civilised.' Gregory nodded once. ‘Get them taken up to my rooms. When all is ready come and fetch me from the Coffee Room.'

Gregory nodded once again, put his hat back at the usual angle, turned and walked off towards the entrance.

When Lord Melford had first seen Gregory standing waiting for him at the Liverpool coaching terminus he had, like most people who came on Gregory for the first time, to suppress a strong desire to be elsewhere. Gregory did not have a prepossessing appearance or manner. He looked slightly mad and possibly violent. Nor were his looks entirely deceiving. But on the journey Melford had, sensibly, made it his business to find out why Trent had forced Gregory's services on to him. And his efforts had been well rewarded, for he was now satisfied that Gregory was just the sort of man he needed at his side to help him in his task. As a valet to a man of feeling and sentiment where clothes were concerned, he might leave a great deal to be desired. But, Lord Melford had said to himself three days out from London, are clothes everything when all is said and done? And he had decided that, for an agent of Jasper Trent on foreign soil and likely to encounter danger, they were not.

Lord Melford looked around him. Congress Square was as busy as the rest of this busy, bustling city and Gregory had never before set foot in Boston. Yet their acquaintance on the voyage from London had left him in no doubt. Lord Melford allowed himself a smile.

If Gregory can't make contact with Molly O'Hara inside forty-eight hours I swear I'll eat that tall hat of his, yes dammit, positively eat his hat.

Chapter Forty-five

M
acleod stood at the living room window looking out at the early sunshine.

Amélie was busy laying the breakfast table.

‘Well, Amélie? What do you think of Madame de Valois?'

Amélie pretended to think about it, but the pretence didn't fool Macleod and, when she saw that it hadn't, she shrugged and left the living room.

Macleod turned and looked out of the window once more. It was going to be a fine day and he felt happy. He was home and they were safe and Amélie had actually taken a liking to Marie.

‘Good morning, Jean.'

Macleod turned. Marie had come into the room and was standing looking at him.

‘Good morning, I trust you slept well. Amélie had very little time to prepare the beds.'

‘I slept very well, thank you.' She looked at the breakfast table. ‘I will only take coffee but if you wish to eat …'

‘No, coffee will suit me. I will call Amélie.'

‘There is no need, she came and helped me to dress, she is bringing the coffee now.' She went to the table and sat down. ‘She looks after me as if I were a small child, she is very kind. I'm glad she likes me.'

They sat at the table and in a few minutes Amélie entered with the coffee, put it on the table and left. Marie reached out to the coffee pot and poured two cups.

‘Last night Amélie and I talked again, we talked a great deal.'

She replaced the pot and held a cup out to Macleod.

‘Thank you. What did you talk about?'

‘You.'

‘Me? Well, you mustn't let Amélie persuade you too much. Ours has been a long relationship but not without its, how shall I put it, not without …'

‘I asked her if I could trust you.'

The cup stopped at Macleod's lips. He paused then put it down.

‘And what did she say?'

‘She said I could trust you totally and if necessary with my life.'

Macleod fingered his coffee cup for a second.

‘And did you believe her?'

‘At first, no. I thought she spoke as a loyal servant would speak to someone who was a stranger, I did not think she spoke from the heart. But I have thought about it a great deal through the night and now I am not sure. I need to trust someone. Alone I will …,' Macleod waited as she looked down at her coffee cup, ‘alone I know I will die,' she raised her eyes, ‘and I do not want to die.' Then she looked down again as if she had said something shameful. For a moment Macleod feared she would cry. He had no idea what he would do if she did, so he waited. But when she looked up there were no tears. ‘Do you think me a coward?'

‘No, you're not a coward, far from it. You have behaved bravely, with great courage.'

‘I have behaved like a child, thinking only of myself and never truly thinking of how much I have put you into danger for my sake.'

‘Then think about it now and trust me, Marie.'

‘I don't know, I want to trust you but I do not know. Coming here on the ship I thought a great deal. It was then that I realised that I am still in many ways a child, but a child who has been burned and still fears the fire. I thought my parents loved me but I was sold. I thought I would be loved by my husband but I was humiliated. I lived surrounded by friends who cared nothing for me. I was a pretty doll, nothing more.' She looked at him with a challenge in her eyes. ‘I want to become a woman, a real woman.' She saw Macleod blink in surprise and his cheeks slightly colour. ‘No, Jean, not a woman in that way. Although if that were to happen then I don't think it would sadden me, perhaps, if it were to happen with you.'

‘Really, Marie, I assure you that not for one moment …'

‘But you have thought about it, Jean. Remember I have seen the way you looked at me so many times in New Orleans. I have seen that look in other men's eyes and I know well enough what it means.' Macleod wanted desperately to make a denial but, looking at her, he found he couldn't. ‘Jean, if I am to become a woman, a person with my own mind and spirit, you must help me. There is no one else.'

‘Of course, I will do all I can, but I don't quite see what it is that you want me to do.'

‘What you have been doing, helping me and guarding me and, most of all, trying to be my friend even when I am a spiteful, selfish child. Have patience with me, Jean, and be my friend.'

Macleod was struggling for some kind of response to this appeal when the front door-bell rang and Macleod stood up hurriedly, thankful for the interruption.

‘Excuse me, Amélie is always so slow. I will see who that is.'

He left the room. Marie heard him open the door and then the sound of voices. After a moment Macleod came back into the room followed by another man. It was Bentley.

It took no great intuition on Marie's part to sense that the visitor was unwelcome. Neither of them had discussed how they would explain her presence in his home. Macleod spoke to her in French.

‘This is Mr Bentley, a business associate.' He then changed to English as he turned to Bentley. ‘May I introduce Madame Marie de Valois. I regret Madame speaks no English, only French.'

Bentley came forward, smiling and holding out his hand. Marie offered hers. He took it and touched it to his lips. He spoke slowly in French, as if finding difficulty with his words

‘Enchanté, Madame. I regret I do not speak French well but if you will bear with me I will do my best.'

‘Your French is better than my English which does not exist at all.'

There was a pause which Macleod hurried to fill.

‘Madame de Valois is a relative of mine. She has come to visit me.'

Bentley reverted to English.

‘A relative? I see. I heard that you had come back from wherever you've been with a new wife so I thought I'd come round and offer my congratulations. I apologise for my mistake.'

Macleod looked shocked and Marie, seeing it, became concerned.

‘What is it, Jean? What does he say?'

‘He says he thought you were my wife.'

‘No! How could he think such a thing?'

Bentley looked at Marie and spoke again in French.

‘A friend of mine saw you arrive together, Madame. He made an error. I apologise.'

‘Madame de Valois is a cousin of mine, a distant cousin. On my mother's side. My mother was French.'

Bentley smiled.

‘Well, Macleod, all I can say is I envy you your cousin no matter how distant and from whichever side. I hope we will see a great deal of you while you are visiting your cousin, Madame. It would be an honour to introduce you to my friends.'

Marie returned his smile.

‘Thank you, M'sieur Bentley but I have not settled on how long I may stay in Boston.

‘I see. And you have come from where, Madame, to visit your distant cousin on his mother's side?'

Macleod intercepted the question.

‘Savannah. Marie is from Savannah.'

But Bentley brushed aside the intrusion and continued to direct his words to Marie.

‘Ah, Savannah, I know it well. In fact I have business interests quite nearby. We must talk together about Savannah, Madame, perhaps we have mutual acquaintances. I know a great many people there and I find it distinctly odd that I have never even heard of Madame de Valois.'

Marie looked to Macleod for help who rallied as best he could.

‘I meant we met in Savannah. We travelled here from Savannah. She was visiting friends and it was there I had arranged to meet her.'

‘I see, visiting friends, of course.' Bentley turned back to Marie. ‘And where is your home, Madame, if not Savannah?'

Asked the question bluntly and now in fluent French Marie looked for a suitable answer, found that she had none, so answered the truth.

‘I come from New Orleans.'

‘Ah, Madame de Valois lives in New Orleans. I regret it is a city I do not know.' Bentley turned back to Macleod. ‘Presumably Madame lives in New Orleans with Monsieur de Valois. May one be so bold as to ask if there are any little de Valois's?'

Macleod answered tersely. His anxiety at Bentley's questioning had evaporated as he became increasingly angry at both the questions and the questioner.

‘Madame is a widow. Her husband passed away some years ago. Now, if you will excuse us …'

But Bentley wasn't ready to leave now that his French had so noticeably improved.

‘Madame, please accept my condolences on your husband's death.'

Marie forced out a sad smile and nodded.

‘Yes, the fever, some years ago.'

‘Well, Macleod, I will take my leave. I only called to pay my respects and welcome to Boston your,' he paused, ‘distant cousin on your mother's side was it not? I will impose on you no longer.' He turned back to Marie and spoke in a French that had improved most remarkably since his arrival. ‘I hope that you will not be a stranger among us, Madame de Valois, however short your stay. I admit that Boston isn't Paris or London nor even New Orleans but it has its points of interest, yes indeed, it does have its points of interest. Good day.'

Bentley left and Macleod could see that his visit had clearly disturbed Marie.

‘Who was that man?'

‘I told you, a business associate.'

‘Why did he come?'

‘As he said, someone saw us arrive and told him I had come home with a new wife.'

‘He lied. He was spying on us I am sure. Did you notice that he said his French was poor but by the time he left he spoke it well enough? And he did not believe I was your cousin did he?'

‘I doubt it.'

‘But he did believe I came from New Orleans.'

‘Probably because it was, unfortunately, the truth. Well, it can't be helped.'

‘Should we fear him, Jean? Will he try to harm us?'

Macleod found himself in a difficult position. If Bentley
was
working for the Government, perhaps even for the General, then he could be an ally. But if he was an ally then he would certainly try to stop Marie going to the British. He might be Macleod's friend in this matter, but if so, would he then be Marie's enemy?

‘I tell you truthfully, Marie, I don't know.'

He saw that she knew he had avoided answering her question. He damned himself for a blockhead who had no way with words when words were needed. She had been so close to trusting him and now once again she was unsure.

‘If you will excuse me I think I will go to my room.'

‘Of course, you must feel free to do as you wish while in this house. Think of it as your own home.'

‘Thank you, you mean it kindly I know, but my homes have not been places I remember with joy. I will try to think of this house as a place of safety.'

‘Do that, Marie, and I swear by all that I hold dear that while you are here I will be your true friend and guard you with my life.'

Marie hesitated, slightly taken aback by the force with which Macleod had spoken. Then she turned and left the room.

Macleod went back to the window and looked out. He found that he had been wrong earlier. The day was not fine and he was not happy and, as for safety, it was proving far more elusive than he had at first thought.

He turned his mind to Bentley. Friend or foe, Government or … Government or what?

And Macleod's mind set off down a new and even more troubling line of conjecture.