Amberley Chronicles Boxset I: The Impostor Debutante My Last Marchioness the Sister Quest (Amberley Chronicles Boxsets Book 1) (28 page)

“Not exactly, but it is associated with so much tragedy – even before my birth, when the revolution wrested it out of my parents’ control – that I find myself wondering if I can ever be at ease there.”

“You will simply have to replace the unhappy memories with better ones. The choice of your future marquise will make all the difference.”

“She will have to be a saint and miracle-worker, to make up for all my deficiencies.”

“Enough of that,” James said sternly. “Pull yourself together, right now. Monique needs you to be strong, and any woman capable of taking the reins in your three households will expect you to trust yourself as much as you trust her. With clear lines of command firmly established, and complete support of your wife’s orders – even against your mother – you can soon set everything to rights. Once we have found your child, all other problems you face are mere details, and easily overcome with a little resolution. Even now, nine out of ten men would gladly be in your shoes, had they the chance.”

Chapter 20

“What I cannot understand,” James said, as their coach was speeding along towards Calais, “is how Mme Fourrier expects to get to London, or Sussex, on the amount you had sent her. It was a generous
douceur
as you intended it, more than enough to purchase any additional comfort, had somebody else paid for the journey itself. But even supposing she struck a very shrewd bargain with the livery stable and stayed in the cheapest accommodations, she could not possibly get any further than Dover – most likely only Calais. And from your description of the woman, she must have known it. What was she about, that she continued the journey under these circumstances? Can she be using money of her own to make up the shortfall?”

Alphonse shrugged. “Her salary is not particularly generous. I was planning to increase it, but had not yet got around to doing so.”

“Maybe she went with the groom to his relatives near Calais, and stayed with them. De Montalban would hardly have found her there.”

“But she justified the whole trip with my letter, indicating that the child should be brought to me in England. To stay with a groom’s relatives in northern France would completely contravene these orders.”

“She must have realised that the money was insufficient, that you never meant your child to travel under such precarious circumstances.”

“Servants sometimes use the letter of an order to do what they themselves want to do, knowing perfectly well that it goes against its spirit, and would not be approved. When challenged they innocently claim to have misunderstood your intentions.”

“Yes,” James admitted, “I have seen such cases myself, though only the most entrenched and trusted servants can get away with this more than once. Such reasoning is also frequently tried by children, who can rival the most sophisticated barracks lawyer.”

“I hope Monique will do so, once she learns to speak,” Alphonse said. “In a strange way the talk with de Montalban has done me good; I can now envisage a future with a growing, talking, even adult Monique. Until now I always shied away from any thoughts of her future. And if
she
has a future, then it becomes possible to think about my own.”

“Good. And remember that whatever happens is in God’s hand. We should not attempt to anticipate His plans, though it’s a very natural thing to do.”

“That will Maître Gallicourt drew up last night also eases my mind.”

“Naturally. Any positive action we take increases our sense of control over events.”

“Talking of action, how much time should we devote to searching for Mme Fourrier in Calais? Obviously the first point of enquiry will be the boat services, and if they remember her taking passage with the child, we can follow her to England on the very next boat. But what if they do not?”

“In that case, it might make sense to split up,” James said, reluctantly. “One of us could continue to search on the French side of the Channel, while the other does the same in Dover.”

“I cannot like the idea, but it makes sense. Let us hope we quickly find her trace.”

+++

They were in luck; within three hours of arriving in Calais, they ascertained that a woman in her thirties, neatly dressed in dark brown, had booked a passage to Dover for herself and her small daughter. “The child wriggled and fussed,” the clerk who had sold her the passage said disapprovingly, “she claimed it was over a year old, but it looked younger and smaller than that.”

“Were there any other single passengers with children of that age?” James asked.

“Not that I can remember, but I am not the only one who arranges passages across to Dover.”

“Did this woman give a name?”

“No, and we do not require it if the price be paid in cash.”

“She paid it then?”

“Yes, of course, or she would still be here in Calais. We do not run our boats for charity.”

“Fair enough. When does the next one leave?”

The clerk issued tickets for a boat leaving about three hours later; they had time for a leisurely meal before boarding. There was no shortage of establishments catering to hungry travellers.

“We are still over a week behind her,” James said after they had been served. “If she had enough money, and managed not to get lost, she should have arrived at her destination by now. We might simply have stayed in England, waiting for her to turn up.”

“I’m glad I did not,” Alphonse said, cutting his steak. “This journey, while tiring, has opened my eyes. But you must miss Charlotte, and your children.”

James acknowledged that this was so, but added “I’ll see them again soon enough. At least we did not dawdle anywhere.”

“She and the children will be most happy to see you return. Having that family eagerly waiting for you makes you a very lucky man, James.”

“Yes, my life is idyllic, almost too much so. I sometimes feel that my energy and wits are only half expended, that I should do more with my time, than what I have so far accomplished. If I were to accept that seat in Parliament, I could make a greater mark, and with our family connections, it might lead to higher office before too long. I was going to think about the decision, but we have been so much in motion, that I have not yet devoted much consideration to the issue.”

“Don’t do it,” Alphonse advised.

James looked surprised at this definitive vote. “Why do you say that?”

“You would find it boring and exasperating after the first few months. I know you better than almost anyone, and I have some idea of what parliamentary and party work is like. Constant intrigue, deception, and trying to make the best of bad bargains. You would exhaust yourself tilting against windmills, and take the inevitable disappointments too much to heart.”

“Charlotte is also opposed to the notion,” James confessed. “She fears for my character and integrity. I found that a little insulting.”

“You should not. She is a wise woman. The best men are worst suited to the political life. If you are happy now, why risk spoiling your life needlessly? Ask yourself – is there nobody else, who can accomplish the task in a trustworthy manner? Your country is full of eager candidates, surely.”

“Hmm.”

“If you need an outlet for your intelligence and energy, as well as some of your money, there are countless causes crying out for reform. Preferably outside parliament, where your party’s interest would constrain your efforts far too much. Why don’t you discuss with Charlotte what might be the most useful contribution you could make to society? Politics are not the only, or even the best way to do so, for a man of your temperament.”

“George does not seem to mind his work in the Lords.”

“I am sure it has a cost for him too, part of the price he pays for being the head of the family. Of course, controlling several seats in the Commons besides his own in the House of Lords, he is in a relatively strong position. But I would not be surprised if those tiny boroughs were reformed before the century is out. That system is riddled with corruption.”

“Are you saying that George –“

“No, he is just playing the role he has inherited, as well as anybody could. I am not casting any aspersion on your brother’s honour. Only, an objective observer would not consider the way he controls three seats in the House of Commons, additionally to his own in the Lords, altogether fair towards other men less advantageously born.”

“You could say the same about aristocracy itself, and the Monarchy.”

“Precisely.” Alphonse drank the last of his wine. “We enjoy and defend the privileges of our position, but had we been born as penniless paupers, we would even now be fighting against the system that distributes its advantages so capriciously.”

James regarded him with astonishment. “You never even thought about such things when you lived in England, Alphonse. I never expected to hear this from you of all people, with your ultra-royalist parents.”

“I suppose it comes from living here in France. The monarchy is restored, and my estate with it, but like all things broken and mended, it can never be what it was before. People cannot simply go back to an earlier time, try as they might. Ideas once thought and expressed cannot be unthought. I don’t suppose any king or noble in France will ever sleep as easily again, as they did a hundred years ago. You did not have a revolution in England recently, so you still continue in that sublime certainty that the world is ordered as it should be. But is it? Is it right that you can simply take one of your brothers’ seats in parliament, when other men do not have such a brother? Perhaps one day they will no longer be willing to tolerate it.”

While James was still wrestling with this unpalatable notion Alphonse waved to the waiter, to pay for their meal. “Come on, James, it is time we were off.”

+++

They spent the sea journey on the deck, each trying to master his impatience at the boat’s slow pace, even though the sails were billowing above them, and the salty spray dampened their clothes.

At Dover, James took the lead in instituting enquiries. His air of command allied to an open, cheerful countenance inspired confidence in the witnesses they questioned, but to no avail. Though it seemed incredible, a Frenchwoman in brown, who did not speak English, and carrying a small girl child, had passed through Dover without attracting any attention. Or was she still there, in one of the houses they passed, increasingly weary of their fruitless search? No, if she had enough money to pay for a week’s lodging, she would surely have continued onward instead.

They recruited a couple of enterprising local lads to continue the search while they paused and regrouped over dinner.

“My feeling is that we are wasting our time,” James said. “We have established that Mme Fourrier was not taken up for vagrancy or any other crime here in Dover, nor has she been remanded to the local workhouse. She would not have stayed here if she could help it. We have to assume that her resourcefulness did not suddenly desert her, just because she is now in a foreign country.”

Alphonse nodded morosely. “I agree, and I think the time has come for us to separate. You can still reach your home in time for that ball you were planning. I shall go up to London and pursue my search there. Maybe they will be at my place, safe and sound; I am praying for such a miracle.”

“I suppose you are right,” James said, albeit hesitantly. “It goes against the grain to give up and return home before we have found your child, but you are as familiar as I with London, and have as many friends to call upon. I advise you to use Beecham and Jonathan, if necessary, and of course there are always the Bow Street runners. If she is not in London, it might be time to call in professional help. And if she should be in Sussex, by any chance, of course I shall send word at once.”

“Very well. It only remains for me to thank you for your support and company. I will never forget –

“Don’t talk such rot,” James interrupted. “After all, what are friends for?”

Chapter 21

Beecham escorted Minerva to the apartments of the Marquis, occupying the first floor of a modern and convenient terrace house in Connaught Street. They had confirmed the exact address with its owner’s valet, still desolately awaiting his master back in Sussex. The maid walked behind them, looking around curiously.

Upon Beecham’s peremptory knock, the door was opened by a pudgy middle-aged servant, correctly attired as befitted a butler in an aristocratic household. Reluctant at first to admit three unknown persons in the master’s absence, he yielded to their joint determination so far as to let them enter into large hall.

“We came to inform you that Mademoiselle de Ville-Deuxtours, the daughter of the Marquis, aged one year, may be on her way to England in the charge of her Nurse, one Mme Fourrier,” Minerva explained to the nervous servant. She spoke slowly and clearly. The man did not impress her as overly intelligent, or easily receptive to startling news.

“One year old?” The butler paled. “Are you sure, Ma’am?”

“My lady,” Minerva’s maid primly corrected.

“You look anxious – can it be that they have already arrived? That would be excellent news indeed.”

The butler began to wring his hands in distress. ”But I did not know! How was I supposed to know? Why am I only told of this now?”

“Explain yourself,” Beecham addressed him sternly. “Did they come here? When? What exactly happened?”

“Yes-yesterday afternoon. This strange woman in dusty brown bombazine, with a small child clinging to her arms, rang the front bell – when she clearly was a servant!”

“But the child was the daughter of your master,” Minerva said, frowning.

“I didn’t know that! The woman spoke in French, very rapidly, as though she expected me to understand her foreign lingo. Naturally I thought she was just some foreign floozy, maybe someone from the master’s past trying to pass her brat off as his. She was very reluctant to go. I literally had to shove her out of the door with the help of a footman.”

Minerva and Beecham exchanged horrified glances.

The solicitor’s voice reflected his disgust. “You threw your master’s own daughter out, into the streets? A baby who had just survived a long and dangerous journey?”

“How was I supposed to know who she was?”

“In your place,” Minerva said to the trembling wretch before her, “I would start looking around for another position. You have no idea at all where Mme Fourrier can have gone afterwards?”

“No, as I said, I could not understand a word of what she said, except ‘Mademoiselle’, which she said repeatedly, and ‘Marquis’. Nothing made sense.”

“Send the whole staff out right away,” Minerva ordered, “to search for the woman and child. Perhaps they sought shelter at some nearby boarding house.” There were none in the immediate neighbourhood, as far as she knew, but the servants might know the area better. “If you discover anything at all, send word to me at Amberley House right away.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And if the nurse should come back, send word also – I will immediately take her and the child down to Sussex, to wait there for the Marquis. Is that clear?”

“Yes, my lady.” The butler was thoroughly cowed by now.

“What a fool,” Minerva said to Beecham, as they resumed their places in the carriage to proceed to Mount Street. “I felt absolutely furious with his futile excuses.”

The maid looked as though she wanted to speak up, but thought better of it.

“It might have been better all around,” Beecham said neutrally, “had the Marquis engaged a butler with some knowledge of French, seeing that he’s French himself.”

“Surely you are not making excuses for the man?”

“No, I agree that he is a fool, and should have found somebody to translate Mme Fourrier’s words, before showing her the door. But he was acting on insufficient information.”

“Never mind about that,” Minerva said impatiently, “how can we find the child now? I don’t have any idea where to search. London is so vast.”

“Leave it to me. I will contact Bow Street, and send out messengers to all magistrates, prisons, hospitals, as well as canvass the boarding houses within walking distance of that apartment. We could also place an announcement offering a reward for information in the morning papers.” He hesitated. “Doing the latter will lead to a great deal of notoriety, however, unpleasant to the Marquis. In his place, I would consider the child’s safety more important than any amount of gossip, but as a member of his class, you may be better able to judge what he would wish.”

Minerva did not have to think about it. “Never mind the notoriety, finding the child must be the highest priority.” The maid nodded agreement, though she had not been asked.

“Very well then, I will begin my efforts as soon as I have delivered you to your home – and there it is already in sight. Traffic is not as heavy as I anticipated.”

“I am glad that you were at hand at this critical juncture,” Minerva said to him warmly. “If you have any news at all, you will call on me right away? I was planning to remain until tomorrow afternoon, but with this new development I may have to stay longer, until the child is found.”

“Without your mother, my lady?” The maid frowned. “That may also cause gossip.”

“If I have to stay for more than this one night, I will seek the hospitality of one of my relatives,” Minerva said. “It is irregular to be here at all without chaperon, but with a house full of servants, I don’t think it signifies. I was planning to be gone again before anyone even noticed my presence.”

“I will tell the staff not to gossip, my lady, but you know the news will leak out.” The maid sounded pessimistic.

“Who cares about the gossip of ignorant busybodies, when a little child is missing?” Minerva only held on to her patience with an effort. Fortunately the carriage was stopping at last in front of her family’s house.

“Good-bye, Mr. Beecham, may your search be crowned by success as quickly as possible.”

He gallantly bowed over her hand as he took his leave. As she swept into the house, Minerva was conscious of slightly warm cheeks, unusual after sitting so long in the cool air.

+++

There was no time to think about Mr. Beecham. Minerva called the butler and housekeeper to her, and handed them the list of items she planned to take to Sussex for Charlotte’s ball.

“Here is the mail, milady,” her brother’s butler said, respectfully handing her a large pile of envelopes in exchange for the list. “And these are cards that were left in your absence.” A thick sheaf of the little rectangles followed.

Minerva swiftly looked through the mail, and extracted a letter postmarked in Greece from the rest. News from her brother George, that she would read at leisure as soon as all her orders were relayed.

“The food and wines should be bought right away, on my brother James’ account,” she told the housekeeper. “Could you see to it, please? I suppose we’ll need the Berline to convey everything to Sussex.”

“It is in Amberley, my lady,” the butler pointed out regretfully. “If I might suggest …?”

“By all means.”

“These bulky supplies, and the items from our own and Mr. Ellsworthy’s household, can just as easily and quite cheaply be transported by hired cart. For safety I propose to send one of our own coachmen and a footman along.”

“That makes sense. If you don’t need him, the footman could stay to help during the ball, and then escort the borrowed items back.”

“Very well, my lady. I will send Bert.”

“Before you start, let me tell you about the other errand that brought me to town.” In a few words Minerva explained about the disappearance of the small Mademoiselle de Ville-Deuxtours and her wet nurse. “If you hear anything at all that might help, inform me right away.”

“There was one thing,” the butler said slowly. “Could it be connected?”

“Speak up, please!”

“Yesterday in the early evening a young gentleman from the French Embassy called, you will find his card among the others I just gave you, my lady. He wanted to know if we had any news of M. le Marquis, where he might be found.”

“Which was his card? Quickly, show me.” The butler identified it with ease, and she read,
M. le Chevalier Georges Matthieu de Mantigny
.

“Send a footman right away – running – to the Chevalier, and beg him to call upon us again, if his visit had anything to do with the child and Mme Fourrier,” Minerva ordered, trying not to give in to premature optimism. “Wait – let me write a note.” Pulling the pencil out of her pocket, she wrote on the back of the visiting card, in very small letters,
If you have any news of Mme Fourrier and Mlle de V-D, please bring them to Amberley House. M.E.

As she handed the card to the butler, doubt assailed her. “Would she really have thought to apply to her embassy, a simple woman like that?”

“We should soon know,” the housekeeper said. “Just in case, should I have the nursery readied?”

“Of course – thank you, Mrs. Peckling.”

The butler left, but the housekeeper was not done yet. “And would you like a meal served to you now, milady, or maybe a bath prepared as well?”

“A tray in my room will to for now, and I will bathe in the evening, after I have finished all my errands. I shall have to answer these letters, too. I may need more ink and quills,” she said ruefully, looking at the envelopes. “They look like invitations, most of them. Any future correspondence is to be forwarded to my brother’s Hall in Sussex. Send me word the moment we hear from the Chevalier.”

She walked up the staircase to her rooms on the second floor, and sank down onto her silk-upholstered chaise longue for a few minutes’ rest, with her legs stretched out, after kicking off her shoes. It was good to be home, even if the big house was strangely empty of family. Normally, it was her mother or Marianne who ordered the staff around as she had just done, but once she married, it would become routine for her as well. She closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the moment of peace.

“Here are the ink and quills you asked for,” her maid’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “The tray should come within the next half hour, Mrs. Peckling said, and have you opened the earl’s letter yet? All the staff would be grateful for any information you might wish to share.”

“Ah, yes, hand me the paperknife, please.” She pulled the long-awaited missive out of her pocket and carefully sliced it open. “That will be all – you can go and help with the packing up of the glasses and trays, after your own lunch. I will tell the staff later what news of the earl might be of interest to them.”

Within twenty minutes a tray with a selection of warm and cold foods appeared, carried by a footman, and accompanied by Mrs. Peckling herself. “My lady,” the housekeeper asked after the tray had been arranged on a small table with the silver cutlery and damask napkin, and the footman had left, “Are the Earl and Countess all right? We are all right worried downstairs.”

Minerva smiled. “Please reassure the staff that Lord and Lady Amberley are in good health. The misunderstanding that kept them marooned has been cleared up, and as they wrote they were about to depart the island for Constantinople.” George’s letter had not said if that change of plans had been altogether voluntary, and she chose not to express her doubts. 

“Constantinople?” Mrs. Peckling’s voice held disappointment and a shadow of disapproval.

“It’s not the end of the world, Mrs. Peckling, but a bustling seaport. Hardly any further from home than that Greek island, at least by ship.”

“If you say so, my lady. If you want anything else, we are at your service.”

The woman left, and Minerva rose on her stocking-clad feet, to see what delicacies had been provided for her sustenance. Did George and Marianne have any idea how much they were missed? How long would they let their retainers, and more importantly, their daughter Verena, wait until their return? When she had children, Minerva decided, she would either forego very long journeys, or take them along with her.