The Man in the Green Coat (27 page)

“I will speak first,” said the marquis firmly. He raised his voice. “Welcome to Charing. My son has brought you all together to clear up any doubts and misapprehensions as to his identity and history. Yes, Maurice Darcy is my younger son, now my heir.

“You will forgive an old man who feels a need to divulge the reasons for our estrangement. Maurice married against my wishes. I held, and still do hold, that the majority of the French nobility were mere lapdogs, fit for nothing but to scurry about the throne.” He held up his hand. “My apologies, Lady Harrison, Monsieur de Vignard—I did say, the majority! However reasonable my beliefs, I acted on them unreasonably.

“I disinherited my son, forbidding his return to his native land and giving his patrimony to his brother, my heir. In the years since, I came to regret my decision but did not choose to expose my error by setting afoot a search. How foolish I was, I leave you to judge. How I might have watched my grandchildren grow up, perhaps saved their mother . . .” He was unable to continue. Gabrielle took his shaking hand and held it tight.

There was a moment of silence, and then the new Lord Darcy, standing with his back to the fire, took up the tale.

“My brother, with his good lady’s support…”

Lady Sarah blushed

“…secretly found me out and insisted on sending me that portion of his income which he considered rightfully mine. I settled in Paris. And now I come to the part of my tale which must never leave this room. You, sir,” he turned to the marquis, “Lady Sarah, Mademoiselle de Vignard, and my son are the only ones present who know nothing of what I am about to reveal. I must ask your word that you will never speak of it.”

The four pledged silence—Lord Charing with curiosity, the ladies uneasily, Gerard casting a glance of resentment at Gabrielle. It was most unfair that his sister should know more than he did.

Their father continued.

“While living in France, I occasionally came across odd facts that I thought might be of interest to the British government. At first I did nothing, but eventually I reported an item of particular significance to our ambassador. He put me in contact with Mr Cosmo Harrison, as he then was, at the Foreign Office. Gradually I found myself spending more and more of my time not merely reporting, but actually searching out information.

“The political situation in France deteriorated, and my position grew more dangerous. We developed between us a network of couriers and code names, so that in the event of hostilities my part should not be obvious. Sir Cosmo, by now created baronet for services to the Crown, was known as ‘the Man in the Green Coat.’”

“Poor Sir Cosmo always was partial to green,” mourned Lady Harrison.

“I became Le Hibou, the Owl, the silent, invisible predator of the night. A romantic image, I confess, but I was still young enough to consider my rôle romantic.”

Gabrielle looked up at her father. Of course it was romantic! she thought. Not that Papa looked romantic. He looked rather ordinary. Even now, holding the floor, he had a quietly unassuming appearance, until you noticed the commanding eyes. Just like Luke’s.

Had she fallen in love with Luke because he reminded her of her father?

Lord Darcy was talking now about the Revolution. His wife’s sister, who had married the Vicomte de Vignard and lived near Avignon, fled to Paris with her two children when her home was burned, her husband murdered by the peasants. There was no safety in the chaos of the capital. He had told her to join the exodus to England, given her Sir Cosmo’s name and direction, and seen no more of her.

Three months later the
ci-devant
Vicomtesse de Vignard was listed among the aristos sent to the guillotine. The children had vanished.

“I lost Sophie,” said Alain, his head bowed. “Maman told me to take care of her, to take her to Sir Cosmo in England, but I lost her.”

With a little wordless cry, Sophie jumped up and ran to him. She hugged him tightly, then squeezed in between him and Gerard on the sofa, holding his hand.

“I found my way to England,” he went on, smiling tenderly down at his sister. “I had forgotten Sir Cosmo’s last name, but after a long search I found him, and he gave me work to do—nothing secret, just translations and such. Then Madame Aurore arrived.”

“
J’arrive
!” crowed Lady Harrison. “I leave mon cher Maurice in Neuchâtel,
une ville bien bourgeoise
, and I come to Londres. Me, I know who is Monsieur D’Arcy and who is Le Hibou! I come to Sir Cosmo and I tell him all. He receives many messages from Le Hibou, but how to send to him he does not know. I arrange! Such long letters I write, full of the gossip. No censor will read all the babblings, n’est-ce pas? And with great secrecy I tell
le feu
Lord Darcy where is his brother. Through me, he sends the money.

“Marie is of the greatest assistance.
Une femme de chambre
, a lady’s maid, she can speak with many people without the least suspicion. Also a boy—Alain was not yet twenty!— may go anywhere and no one will notice. He is the nephew of Le Hibou, so Sir Cosmo employs him in the secret work.

“Then my poor Sir Cosmo dies. The Foreign Secretary, who does not take
assez sérieusement
the spying, appoints a young man of no experience. Patience, Monsieur Everett! I mean no insult. Le bon Davis, Sir Cosmo’s secretary, he must teach the young man. He learns very fast, but Davis knows only a part of the whole. He knows of Marie. but of me and of Alain he knows nothing! Still, the messages go to Le Hibou, and the messages come back to Monsieur Everett, who is now the Man in the Green Coat.”

Luke stood up. Gabrielle fixed her eyes on her hands, but she heard him pacing as he talked.

“I had no idea of Le Hibou’s identity, but he was the source of our best information from France—not surprisingly, as I now gather he had been posing for years as an aide to the Minister of Police. A year ago, I asked him to go to Russia, to investigate various matters there. We heard nothing from him for several months. Then came a message from France in his name, borne by an unknown courier and disclosing a conspiracy.”

Gabrielle prayed that he was not about to reveal her part in the delivery of that message. She had told her father, but the fewer people who knew of her arrival in England, dressed as a boy and with a bullet in her, the better.

“I will not go into details,” he continued, to her relief. “It is government business, and the less said the better. We heard from Le Hibou two or three times more, and then we received word that he was resigning. Lord Darcy?”

“Thank you. Just before I left for St Petersburg, I heard that my brother was dead. My father discovered from his papers that he had been supporting me, and through the same channels wrote to say that I was now his heir. I chose to believe that he had forgiven me.”

He smiled at the marquis, who nodded his white head and whispered to Gabrielle that in actual fact he had begged his son’s forgiveness.

“However, I had to complete my mission to Russia before I could go home. It was, to say the least, a hazardous mission and uncertain of outcome. I had no idea how long I should be away. My dear children were used to long absences, but I told them that if I was gone for more than a certain period without sending news, or if it seemed likely that war would break out again, they were to go to Aurore in London. As indeed they did.

“I must apologise to them, and to you, my lord, for asking Aurore to keep silent about my family. It seemed best that they should await my arrival, or certain knowledge of my death, before approaching you. I gather this has led to some confusion, and for that I must apologise also to Mr Everett.”

Gabrielle felt her face crimson and turned her eyes again firmly on her lap. What would he say next? She should never have told him that Luke had thought her a base-born adventurer, a harlot and a French spy!

“In the meantime, I returned from St Petersburg and found my children gone. I reported to Fouché  such intelligence of Russia as I thought fit, and laid my plans to come to England. That was when I discovered the plot to which Mr Everett referred, and learned that my nephew was being drawn into it.

“Fouché  knew that Alain worked for a key figure in the conspiracy. He somehow found his sister and used her to induce him to betray his employer.”

“What would you have done?” asked Alain, his arm round Sophie’s shoulders, his gaze passing from one to another of his listeners. “They threatened her with a life far worse than death. I had failed her before, when I left her behind in France. I prepared to cooperate, praying that my uncle, Le Hibou, would find some way to intervene, but ready to give up a thousand bloody-handed Frenchmen to save her!”

There was a moment of heavy silence.

“Of course you were,” said Lady Harrison firmly. “And of course Maurice did intervene!”

Lord Darcy patted her shoulder. “I did indeed, chérie, but Mr Everett was a step ahead of me—and his henchman nearly put an end to me!” He waved a salute to Baxter. “However, they now have Monsieur Roussel in secure custody, Sophie is restored to us, and I am happy to inform you all that Aurore has consented to become my wife!”

Lady Harrison, her sea-green silk rustling, swept forward, and knelt before the marquis.

“I ask you for
la bénédiction
, milord,” she said, smiling up at him coquettishly.

“With pleasure, my dear,” he responded, and kissed her forehead. “And now, if the explanations are over, Maurice, we shall repair to the morning room to drink your lady’s health in the best French champagne.”

She helped him out of his chair and she and Gerard supported his steps from the room.

In a daze, Gabrielle went to the nearest window and leaned her forehead against the cool glass. Papa to marry Madame! And now that Alain, too, had found his family, doubtless he would marry Dorothea, and Gerard might as well take Sophie, who was turning out to be almost as pretty as her brother was handsome.

And she herself would just turn into an old maid and spend the rest of her life on the shelf.

“Miss Darcy?”

She froze.

“Gabrielle?” Luke' s voice was having trouble emerging. He cleared his throat. “I know you said you never want to see me again, but I must talk to you!”

Her own voice was misbehaving now. She wanted to ask what there was to talk about, but all that came out was a grunt.

Apparently this was sufficient encouragement.

“Forgive me! I had no right to say all those terrible things to you, and I knew in my heart that they weren’t true, however bad it looked, It was pure anguish! I wanted to marry you, and I knew I couldn’t. I was trying to persuade myself that you were unworthy. But even when I half believed it, I still wanted you for my wife. You cannot imagine how it felt.”

“
I
was in anguish.”

He was silent. Somehow he had not thought of that. He had known she was angry, had every right to be angry, but he had not considered that she might hurt as much as he did.

“Can you ever forgive me?” he whispered wretchedly.

She was fighting tears. If she spoke they would escape, and she despised weeping females. She closed her eyes tight, bit her lips, pressed harder against the windowpane.

“Gabrielle!”

His cry was filled with despair. She turned and flung her arms about him, hid her face in his chest, and let the tears come.

Fortunately Luke had a large, clean handkerchief. He carried her to a sofa and held her while she wept. He was somewhat puzzled, having seen her go through the most painful experiences without the slightest sign of tears; but as long as she let him keep his arms around her, he had no objection.

At last the sobbing turned to sniffling. She looked up at him, her eyes red, and he kissed them.

“I adore you,” he said. She snuggled closer.

“Do you really?” she asked. “It seemed odd to me that you wanted to marry me when you despised me.”

“I didn’t think it possible that I could ever want to marry you more than I did then, but I do now. If you follow me. I truly do adore you. Will you be my wife?”

 “Kiss me again while I think about it.”

He obliged.

Gerard rushed into the room.

“Gaby,” he shouted, “Papa says I can join a cavalry regiment!”

“Do go away, there’s a good fellow,” urged Luke.

“And Gerard,” said Gabrielle with a sigh, “don’t call me Gaby!”

Historical Note

General Pichegru followed Georges Cadoudal to France in January 1804. They were both arrested, along with General Moreau and other conspirators.

Pichegru committed suicide in his cell; Cadoudal was shot. Fouché  failed to implicate Moreau in the plot, but Bonaparte exiled him anyway. He went to America, returning in 1813 to fight with the allies again his ex-master.

Copyright © 1987 by Carola Dunn

Originally published by Walker

Electronically published in 2005 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.