The Shadow of Albion (33 page)

Koscuisko threw up his hands. „There’s nothing more to know,“ he said, a faint

wail in his voice. „No one on the Tryg was expecting the Princess’s ship to vanish –

you can believe I made sure of that – and nobody aboard has the slightest idea of

where she’s gone.“

„We must assume,“ Wessex said reasonably, „that she’s gone somewhere. And if

it were any place in the least desirable, we would have heard by now.“

„Which leaves France,“ Koscuisko said glumly.

„Which probably means France,“ Wessex agreed. „We daren’t put off telling

Prince Christian that we’ve lost his sister – we have to assume he’s heard already –

so Widowmaker and I are bound for Copenhagen now. I’ll sniff around the Danish

court and see if anyone knows more than he should.“

„I’ll go with you,“ Koscuisko offered instantly.

„No,“ Wessex said firmly. „You’re bound for England. Prince Jamie’s got

himself entangled with Ripon’s girl, and you’ve got to pry her away from him.“

„Me?“ Koscuisko said blankly. Then he smiled. „Well, it’s worth a try. Is she

pretty?“

„More than you deserve, my son. So make yourself beautiful and be on your

way.“

„Her Grace the Duchess of Wessex!“ the bewigged footman shouted as Sarah

reached the top of the stairs.

The Earl’s ballroom occupied the second floor of his townhouse, three stories

above the London streets. Sarah could not help comparing the room with that at

Mooncoign, and wondering if the differences between the two betokened differences

in character as well.

Mooncoign’s ballroom was lavish – everything gilded and grand, meant to be

impressive. But Brookstone (Ripon’s townhouse was named for one of his

secondary titles, Viscount Brookstone) was meant to overwhelm – not with itself

alone, but with the consequence of the family that had caused it to be built. The

Highclere arms were repeated everywhere, like trophies of captured enemies, and the

mirrors reflected the Waterford chandeliers into an infinity of heartless dazzle that

struck the eyes like a thrown challenge.

Sarah had meant to come early, hoping to get Meriel off in a corner where she

could quiz the girl about her true plans, but the crush of carriages in the street had

delayed Sarah’s arrival until well after ten. The ballroom was already filled with

people, and in the arctic glitter of the crystal and mirrors, Sarah could see neither

Meriel nor Prince Jamie. Perhaps the Prince had not come, which would be ideal –

„Your Grace, how pleasant it is to have you Join us.“ The Earl of Ripon

materialized at her elbow.

„Yes, isn’t it?“ Sarah shot back, biting down an even more caustic reply. She

wondered if Ripon really believed in the success of his scheme to make Prince

James a puppet king upon a shadow throne, and if the man had for one moment

stopped to count the cost.

„And your husband?“ Ripon pursued. „The Duke?“ As if Sarah might have

forgotten who it was she’d married barely more than a month before.

Sarah tightened her grip on her fan. „My husband does not care for your

company,“ she said boldly. She might as well send all her bridges blazing to heaven

upon this one occasion; her attempts to personate a pattern-card of virtue had

brought her nothing but failures, so perhaps the opposite would serve her better.

„Alas.“ Ripon did not seem especially devastated by this observation. „Perhaps

we can persuade you, at least, to a better opinion of us.“

I doubt it, Sarah thought, but this at least she did not say aloud. Instead she

allowed Ripon to lead her along the edge of the ballroom floor and into another

room, where he procured her a glass of iced champagne punch and bowed himself

off, leaving her in peace. With a duplicity that surprised even its owner, Sarah spent

the next half an hour dissembling to her fellow guests and promising dances she did

not intend to dance before setting off in search of Lady Meriel. Ripon had outdone

himself – half the Upper Ten Thousand, it seemed, had crowded into these rooms

tonight.

A quick scouting of the rooms flung open to the entertainment satisfied Sarah that

her quarry was not anywhere present, but it was inconceivable that Lady Meriel

should be absent from the ball being given to establish her in Society. It was barely

possible that Meriel was still in her rooms; Sarah set out to discover the actuality.

She was able to make her way out of the ballroom without difficulty, but once on

the floor below, Sarah was adrift in a strange house with no idea where Meriel’s

rooms lay. She shrugged philosophically, pulling her crepe shawl higher about her

bare shoulders. She must search until she found it – it was unlikely, with everyone

attending the ball on the floor above, that she’d startle anyone but the servants, and

eccentricities in the Quality were only to be expected. A few vails, liberally

bestowed, should ensure that Ripon did not hear of this excursion. Toward the back

of the house, she found another staircase and began to climb.

The first few doors she opened on the third floor led only into darkened

bedrooms and parlors – none of them showing any signs of extensive occupation –

and Sarah began to think her idea a particularly shatterwitted one when she turned the

corner and saw light leaking from beneath a closed door. Perhaps Meriel was within.

But she could hardly walk up to the door and knock, Sarah realized. What reason

would she give?

She’d just realized the ill-conceived nature of her mission when the door she had

been contemplating swung open abruptly.

„There’s no one there,“ the Earl of Ripon prophesied.

„I know there’s no one there!“ Geoffrey Highclere snarled. „Just your mewling

catspaw of a niece, a houseful of servants, five hundred guests – “ A courier from

France…. „ With an effort, Geoffrey reined in his temper. There was no sense in

alienating his so-helpful brother, especially since the original plan to entangle the

Prince of Wales had been Ripon’s idea.

But Geoffrey’s French masters had battened upon it, particularly that white spider

Talleyrand, secret master of France, and suddenly it was Geoffrey’s business to

make sure his brother’s plot achieved its full flower – without, of course, letting

Ripon know who took so much interest in it. Because Ripon was loyal to England,

after his fashion – and any power that Ripon tore loose from the Crown he meant to

bestow only upon Ripon.

But when a thing was struck loose from its moorings and floated freely, it might

end up anywhere at all….

„You worry too much, Geoffrey,“ his brother rumbled. „Meriel is weeping in her

abigail’s arms after the lesson you gave her earlier, and everyone else is at the ball.

As I should be – Wessex’s Duchess has favored us with her presence, and it would

not do to neglect her.“

„Wessex!“ Geoffrey all but hissed. The courier had brought word from

Geoffrey’s French masters that Wessex was becoming a dangerous annoyance – the

man, Geoffrey had discovered, was more than he seemed. „He meddles in our plans

at every turn.“

„How can he?“ Ripon asked reasonably. „Wessex has gone to the country once

more.“

„He has not gone to the country,“ Geoffrey said. „He has gone to Denmark –

Princess Stephanie has vanished; her ship did not reach landfall in the Orkney

Islands.“

„What?“ Ripon was thunderstruck. „When you told me you had urgent news, I

thought it was to do with our cause.“

Tour cause, dear brother, Geoffrey amended mentally.

„And so it is. Do you think France uninterested in any matter that could make

England once more her natural ally against a sea of inhuman creatures and heretics?“

Geoffrey said smoothly. „And so she has acted to aid us: Princess Stephanie will

never reach Edinburgh.“

The rumors of the Danish Princess’s disappearance were already drifting from the

Palace like smoke, and the courier had brought Geoffrey confirmation of them –

though it was possible, his informant had told him, that the account of Princess

Stephanie’s disappearance was merely a Banbury tale ta explain why the Duke of

Wessex was traveling to the continent in such unseemly haste.

„Vanished!“ Ripon smiled. „Then we have more time to make sure of the Prince.

You need not have been so harsh with Meriel this evening at all.“

„We may not have so much time as you think,“ Geoffrey said slowly. He

hesitated over how much to tell his brother, drew a deep breath, and called upon all

his powers of inventive diplomacy.

„My… sources believe that Wessex’s real mission has nothing to do with

Princess Stephanie. That it is only a convenient excuse for those who know that the

Duke is King Henry’s agent. It is believed in fact that Wessex is on the trail of Louis

XVII. It seems that the Young King may be alive, and if he is, Wessex means to

bring the boy to England and set up an opposition government.“

Ripon mulled this over while Geoffrey wondered if his brother would take the

bait.

„It is possible,“ the Earl said. „Did not Wessex’s father go to France to rescue

the child – and fail? Or – wait! Did he fail? If the old Duke were able to spirit the

boy into hiding with a loyal Royalist family…“

„Then the son could stand ready to complete what the father could not,“

Geoffrey said. „And once the Young King is in English hands, Imperial France will

be seen as weak enough to defeat. England will never sue for a separate peace…“

„And our cause is doomed.“ Ripon frowned. „Wessex must be stopped.“

„He isn’t here – brother – to be stopped,“ Geoffrey pointed out. „How do you

propose to neutralize him?“

„I have a plan that might amuse you, Geoffrey,“ the Earl said. „It will involve

travel upon the Continent….“

Sarah retreated around the corner just as the door opened, and her common sense

asserted itself in a mighty surge. If she wished to present herself as the voice of

Reason, skulking around the hallways of other people’s houses was not the way to

do it.

She was very glad to have made such a decision when she heard Geoffrey

Highclere’s mocking drawl. He had undoubtedly chosen this occasion to present his

brother with yet another selection of his duns, for all the world knew that Mr.

Highclere’s pockets were emphatically to let.

As for where Meriel was, a perfectly reasonable explanation presented itself upon

reflection. The girl did not yet have much experience of Society, and was in the

midst of conducting .a scandalous romance. What was more likely than an attack of

nerves was delaying her appearance? The reasonable thing to do was to return to the

dance floor and take the opportunity to ask Lord Ripon about it when she saw him

again.

But Reason was not to be her ally – this night or any other – Sarah reflected

irritatedly several hours later.

Her dressing-table was lit by one lone candle, and she. sat before her mirror in a

grey watered-silk combing-coat lavished with ecru lace, still damp from the ablutions

that had removed the makeup from her face. She had sent Knoyle to bed as soon as

the abigail had unlaced her dress and unpinned the jewels from her hair, and it had

taken the better part of an hour after that for Sarah to finish preparing herself for

bed.

She inspected her reflection in the mirror critically. Neither an intriguer nor the

society leader King Henry had wanted her to be; she had not managed so much as a

private word with Lady Meriel all evening, and seen much to dismay her.

For Prince Jamie seemed more man simply dazzled by Meriel’s beauty. The

young Prince seemed dangerously – foolishly – recklessly – besotted with Meriel.

And Meriel was playing him as if she were a damsel in a courtly romance, requiring

outrageous and public proofs of his devotion.

If Wessex had still been here, Sarah would have swallowed her pride and gone to

him – this disaster was too large a tiling for her to stand upon her hurt pride if there

were any help she could seek. But Wessex was gone away, and she did not know if

anyone knew how to reach him.

Sighing, Sarah set down her hairbrush. If the Marchioness of Roxbury had

possessed numerous allies, plain Sarah Cunningham had none. Which meant that

though she was filled with a sense of responsibility for the impending ruin of the

Danish treaty, she was completely powerless to affect matters –

No! I will not accept that! Meriel had been Sarah’s friend, and there must be

some way still to reach her.

Perhaps tomorrow Sarah could discover what it was.