Strange Capers (17 page)

Aiglon bought enormous quantities of silk, which Madame bundled up and said she would have delivered to his carriage at the White Hart right away. Aiglon paid her in cash, and we left, with every polite compliment imaginable on both sides. I was surprised that something more hadn’t developed. I was sure Madame would get him out to the back of the shop, away from me, on some pretext or other. I was left to wonder whether my presence had defeated Aiglon’s purpose in going or whether his mission had been accomplished.

“Satisfied?” he asked, taking my arm in his when we walked along the street. I concluded that
he
was. Whatever reason took him to Madame Bieler’s, he had achieved his aim.

“If you are,” I parried.

“Now that’s odd. You claimed to be interested in looking at stuff for a gown, but you only tried on
chapeaux.”

“It was pretty obvious you planned to buy all the silk in the shop, so I looked at bonnets instead. Your mother won’t care for that hideous red silk, Aiglon.”

“Oh it’s not for Mama!” he said, and laughed.

“No, I should think not. For a lightskirt is more like it!”

“I thought it would suit you remarkably well, Constance. Have I erred?” he asked.

“I have no desire or intention of decking myself out as a scarlet woman, and if you ever bothered to look at my gowns, you would know scarlet is not my color.”

“That’s true, but Madame didn’t have anything in gray.”

I felt his ironical eyes sliding in my direction and ignored them as well as the taunting remark. Instead I dropped a hint to see if he’d tell me about Madame’s robbery.

“Had Madame anything interesting to say?” I asked.

“When one has a face like Madame’s, the most commonplace remarks have a way of becoming interesting. She mentioned someone robbing her.”

“You sound as if you don’t believe it.”

“I don’t disbelieve it, but why tell
me
? She took the notion I had money to burn and was only trying her hand at relieving me of a little of it.”

“Is that what she was up to, with that story of losing a week’s income!” I gasped, astonished at her duplicity.

“What big ears you have, Constance! Your careful perusal of the bonnets made me wonder whether you were executing the proper care for my welfare. I’m relieved to confirm your performance a sham.”

“I couldn’t help overhearing a few words,” I admitted, blushing like a rose. The snort that issued from his lips told me as clearly as words his opinion of that statement.

“Well, why did you go, then, and why were you so eager to rid yourself of me, if you only meant to buy silk and hear that Madame was robbed. Oh, dear!” I gasped.

“Precisely, my dear. I had to hear whether Madame was robbed.”

“Was it
her
money in our cellar?”

“Probably.”

“Aiglon, she can’t make that much in a week! Even a good week, with new silks from France.”

“You heard those ‘few words,’ too, did you?”

I was doing some quick figuring and soon spotted a flaw in Aiglon’s glib explanation. “You already
knew
Madame had been robbed. You knew her money was in the cellar. You didn’t go to her shop to learn that, Aiglon. You’re hiding something from me.”

“No, Constance, I am only
trying
to hide something from you. I’m quite sure that before we get home you’ll have weaseled every detail from me.” He slowed the pace and directed a wickedly suggestive smile at me. “At least you could, if you wanted to,” he added. That look was more effective than a gun in silencing any further questions from me.

We went for a walk along the Leas to ensure that Aiglon’s parcel had time to reach the carriage. The wind was damp and cool, and the view was not at all pretty on such a cloudy day. There were only a handful of people out walking.

“Strange thing, you know, about gentlemen’s boots,” Aiglon said, staring at the Hessians of a passing stroller.

“What’s strange about them?”

“They look so well polished, considering that there’s no boot blacking to be had in Folkestone. Truth is indeed stranger than fiction, especially when you invent it. I’m quite shocked at your mendacity, Constance.”

“It wasn’t exactly a lie,” I equivocated. “You knew I was only funning. You haven’t been entirely truthful yourself, Aiglon,” I was obliged to remind him.

“There are times, I admit, when a lie is not really a lie,” he said.

“When it is told by Lord Aiglon, for example?”

He didn’t acknowledge my jibe but only frowned in a meditative way out across the water. “Or even Madame Bieler. She tells a sort of truth, yet she misleads. You know that old gray mare in the stable at Thornbury, Constance ...”

“Yes, what about it?” I asked, curious to hear how a poor old mare should be involved in this discussion.

His frown turned to a triumphant smile. “Ah, then there
is a
gray mare at Thornbury! I suspected as much. And it was a kind of lie by omission for you not to tell me who was following Retchling.”

“You tricked me!” I accused. “You let on you were talking about Madame Bieler!”

“No, no, I was only dealing indirectly. Let’s go back to the inn now. I’m eager to read the note Madame will have slipped into the packet of silk. All your morning wasted,” he taunted, wagging a finger at me. I was so frustrated I wanted to hit him.

And, to make matters worse, he took the note out right in front of me, read it, and tore it into a hundred pieces, which he threw out the window, to flutter off in the wind.

I was furious by the time Rachel quizzed me about my morning’s activities. “What did you learn?” she asked eagerly.

“That your cousin is a devious devil!”

“Good gracious, we already knew that. Retchling has been out scouring around the countryside, discovering exactly where the army has outlooks and what routes are safe for the guns. I believe they are coming by land, Constance, and will be taken away on a ship after Aiglon has stolen them.”

“Aiglon knows Retchling was followed. And, by the way, I forgot to tell you last night that Retchling is not Retchling. I think he might be Riddell.”

“No!” Her face turned bone-white. “I’m sunk. Oh, Constance, I have this very morning been walking around the house with him, discussing the curtains and everything in the most frank way, never thinking he could possibly know my little tricks. He even asked if there was not a dovecote at Thornbury! Thank God I told him it had been vandalized.”

“Well, that’s something.”

“He was so very attentive, too. He came home half an hour before you and spent the entire time with me, just walking around the place, you know. I took the idea he was rather interested in me. The Retchlings are quite unexceptionable. To think I wasted my time being pleasant to Riddell!”

“But you were always buttering him up,” I reminded her.

“Only by letter! I would never be so condescending to him in person!” she replied, shocked at my ignorance.

Her next concern was for Aiglon’s shopping. “Did he pick up some nice silks for Lady Aiglon?” she asked.

“I doubt if his mama will care for the scarlet. Even the peacock blue and gold silk looked a trifle gaudy to me.”

“Peacock blue! How well that would suit the saloon!” she exclaimed. “Scarlet—I don’t know that I’d care for that, but perhaps in one of the smaller guest rooms...”

“There was one other thing, Rachel,” I said, and waited for her to return to the present conversation before continuing. “That money in the cellar was stolen from Madame Bieler. It was three hundred pounds.”

“That’s impossible. She wouldn’t make that much in a year,” Rachel objected.

I relayed to her what I had overheard the men discussing the night before, and we talked it over for a while. “So you think Retchling stole the money from Madame Bieler? How would he know she had it?”

“Mickey would know, but I can’t see why he’d tell Aiglon or Retchling.”

“He wouldn’t. He’d steal it himself,” Rachel answered. “Ah, I think I have it figured out now, Constance. Madame Bieler is the contact Aiglon used when he stole the first lot of guns. It was she who arranged to get the word to the Isle of Wight. He paid her, and he knew she must have the money somewhere around her place, so he came down here to get it. Yes, that must be it. Whatever happened to honor among thieves?”

“But if Aiglon knew it, why did he go to her shop this morning?”

“Ninnyhammer, he went to find out if she suspected him,” she told me.

This was as good an explanation as we could come up with. Retchling
had
had the money in the cellar. He must have stolen it, and he couldn’t know it was at Madame’s house if Aiglon hadn’t told him. Stealing from a Frenchie hadn’t quite the aroma of selling guns to them, but it was hardly a feather in Aiglon’s cap, either. Every time his behavior was put under examination, some new twist turned up.

I was worried that Mickey Dougherty was in on the whole thing, too, for I wouldn’t have trusted that man as far as I could throw an elephant. When I remembered how artfully Aiglon had discovered that Jeremy was the man following Retchling, I feared Rachel and I were dealing with men too sharp for us. We were beyond our depths, and I urged her to call in help.

“We’ll wait till Jake returns and tells us what Dougherty was up to,” she decided. “If Jake can give us the name of the boat they’ve hired, it will be very simple, Constance. We only have to have that ship watched and foil their whole scheme. That will be preferable to hauling in the army and the constable and making a great scandal for the family. We’ll keep Aiglon’s name out of it.”

I was going to urge her to talk to him, to talk her cousin out of his plan, whatever it was, but in the end I didn’t suggest it at all. Aiglon already knew that we were checking up on him. He knew I wouldn’t let him out of my sight in town, and he knew that Rachel had had Retchling followed. He wouldn’t be dissuaded, and the better plan seemed to be to deal cautiously. His whole success relied on the ship that was being hired, and the ship was what we had to learn about. Not only whose ship it was, but where it would be lying in wait to receive the stolen cargo. Rachel was right, as usual.

We all had dinner together, and afterward Rachel inquired what plans the men had, for she had to arrange to have them followed. Jake still hadn’t returned from duty with Mickey Dougherty. It made a quiet evening when Retchling said he would spend his time in the library and Aiglon, malicious eyes dancing, suggested that he and Rachel have a look at the account books for Thornbury.

I had no desire to audit that argument and went upstairs for the next hour, pitying poor Rachel. Aiglon would make mincemeat of the sham and charade of her bookkeeping. I was quite astonished when she came to my door within thirty minutes, gloating and holding the bundle of scarlet silk.

“I got it out of him!” she crowed. “There’s enough here to make us both up a lovely gown after they go on back to London. But it’s the gold I have my eye on. If I get the gold, I really
will
put this in the smallest guest room. Unless I can sell it back to Madame Bieler,” she added, and walked off, humming, to her own room.

I followed after her. “What are Aiglon and Retchling doing?”

“Having a glass of wine. Aiglon asked if you were going belowstairs again.”

“Someone had best keep an eye on them,” I said, which gave me an excellent excuse to do what I wanted to do without giving Rachel the idea I was tossing my bonnet at her cousin.

There was no one in the saloon when I returned belowstairs. My first fear that the men had run off was soon abandoned. The library door was ajar a few inches, and from within I heard Retchling expounding some nonsense that had nothing to do with business. While trying to decide whether or not to enter, I heard a scrabbling sound on the staircase that came up from the kitchen. There in the shadowed area just above the bend stood Jake, beckoning to me. I slipped quietly away from the library before I was seen.

I pulled Jake downstairs a little to avoid detection if Aiglon should decide to return to the saloon. His eager face spoke of great revelations to come.

“What is it, Jake? What did you learn?” I asked.

“He’s here, Mick Dougherty!” Jake whispered.

“Where? Is he coming to the front door?”

“Devil a bit of it. He’s waiting at the old burnt down.”

In local speech, the ruins of Our Lady’s Chapel had been shortened to this rustic phrase. Obviously, Mick had arranged to meet his cohorts there, and, equally obviously, either Rachel or myself must go and eavesdrop on their conversation. Most obvious of all was that I would be the one chosen for the job.

“Tell Lady Savage,” I ordered. “Slip quietly through the hall, Jake, so they don’t hear you. No, better yet, use the servants’ stairway. Tell her I’ve gone to the burnt down and will bring back my report. I’ll get there before Aiglon and hide in the bushes.”

We both continued down to the kitchen, where Jake turned to the backstairs and I went to the door for my old gray cloak that was kept there in readiness for such rough work as gardening. Meg turned a fiercely demanding eye on me, but I paid her no heed.

It was cool in the shadows of evening. Such a tangled garden surrounded Thornbury that every step was menaced by a shadow. A pale gibbous moon rode the sky, but little illumination seeped through to the footpath along which I sped toward the chapel.

When I was still several yards from it, Mickey’s mount let out a whinny that frightened me half to death. I moved more stealthily then, creeping forward step by step, peering into the near distance. The humped pile of stones stood out against the dark foliage. When my eyes were totally adjusted to the shadows, I was able to distinguish a dark hump atop the rocks. It was Mickey sitting cross-legged with his head bent down. He was talking to someone, but it couldn’t possibly be Aiglon or Retchling, whom I’d left sitting in the library.

The other person was invisible, though the direction in which Mickey was looking told me his companion was concealed by the thornbushes around the chapel. They spoke in low voices, and I crouched down to advance without being seen. My mind was alive with all manner of wild conjecture as to who he was with. Was it no more than an amorous tryst with some local wench? The fact that the other voice was so soft and low suggested it wasn’t a man’s.