Heart of Gold (17 page)

His blood was up. He needed to find the Heart of
Gold.

Then he remembered his other commitments.

He felt Bernard's notebook in his inner jacket pocket.
He wondered about George's progress with the Prince's
ancestors. He had pangs of guilt when he thought of
Dr Romellier and the quest for his grandmother's correspondence.
The only real progress he'd made was in
observing the Marchmaine Independence League – he at
least had something to report on that front.

'You're looking for my help,' he finally said.

'You have the magical ability that I do not. In a situation
like this, such skill is important. As you point out,
recovering the Heart of Gold is in both our interests.'

Aubrey sat back. For a moment, he saw his life as a
giant chessboard. Von Stralick was a piece, recently
moved, but Aubrey had many others he needed to
manoeuvre to achieve his ends. He'd already moved
George, while his mother and father were safe (he
hoped) where they were. But one other piece needed to
be moved.

'I'll need assistance,' he said.

'Of course. Doyle will be useful, limited though he is.'

Good
, Aubrey thought,
underestimate George. It may prove
handy
. 'I'll need someone else.'

'I'll leave that to you.' Von Stralick leaned forward.
'The Marchmaine Independence League is holding a
public meeting this evening at the Academy of Sciences.
I will meet you around the corner at eight. Look for me
by the statue of Marshal Beaumain.'

Von Stralick slipped out of the booth and was gone.
Aubrey sat for a while, pondering the Holmlander's revelations
and his future actions.

When he went to go, the proprietor stopped him.
Von Stralick had left without settling the bill. Aubrey
paid and left, his wallet lighter and his demeanour both
grim and exhilarated.

H
E MADE HIS WAY BACK TO THE UNIVERSITY AND FOUND THE
Taxonomy Department. Summoning reserves of energy
he didn't know he had, in a short space of time he'd blandished
his way past an attractive secretary and into an
unscheduled meeting with Professor Lavoisier, the head
of the Department.

Aubrey decided that Lavoisier was the sort of man
who would be extremely difficult to see on a foggy day.
He was grey, in hair, complexion, clothing and manner.
He held his pince-nez in his hand and regarded Aubrey
with the attitude of someone who was already trying to
decide which regulation or by-law was being infringed
just by his presence.

'Now, young man,' Lavoisier said in impeccable
Albionish, 'you're saying that this Miss Hepworth has
been abusing our hospitality? In what way?'

'Misusing personal information,' Aubrey said smoothly.
'I'm sorry to inform you of this, Professor, but I feel it's
my duty.'

'You don't mind if I take notes?' Lavoisier asked. It was
one of the least question-like questions Aubrey had ever
heard. The professor already had a fountain pen and a
large ledger at hand even before Aubrey answered.

'Please do.'

Aubrey straightened his tie and hoped that Caroline
would understand. An even better outcome would be if she
never heard of this piece of subterfuge at all. Much better.

He wanted her assistance in the tangled mess he'd
found himself in, and not just because of her undoubted
abilities – he wanted her by his side, and he knew that she
wouldn't be able to devote the necessary time if she was
still immersed in her taxonomy studies. So the obvious
remedy was to relieve her of those duties. No more study
meant she'd have the time to spend on other matters. It
all seemed perfectly reasonable to him.

He was sure he could get Caroline reinstated after he'd
found the Heart of Gold. Public hero, friends in high
places, a little string pulling should be straightforward. All
would work out for the best.

'What sort of personal information?' Lavoisier asked.

'Apparently she's been inquiring after one of your
correspondents, a Dr Romellier. Despite his need for
privacy, she's been seeking his address.'

'Intolerable. I will cancel her invitation immediately.
She will be disgraced.'

Aubrey blinked. 'Ah, not a wise course of action, I'd
suggest. Especially since Albion–Gallian relations need
to be kept warm. Miss Hepworth has influential friends.'
He coughed behind a folded hand. 'The Prime
Minister.'

Lavoisier went from grey to wintry to outright frosty.
'Politics.'

'A suggestion: cancel her position. Do it firmly but
politely. Make bureaucratic excuses about resources or
the like. That will be enough.'

Lavoisier was no fool. 'And what is your interest in this
matter, Mr Derringford?'

When Aubrey had used the Ambassador's name as his
own, he'd been anticipating this question. 'The Albion
Embassy is concerned with the conduct of all Albion
nationals who are in your country. If we can avoid
scandal, so much the better. In these troubled times, if
you take my meaning.'

The professor pursed his lips. 'You are rather young for
such delicate business, aren't you?'

Aubrey smiled. 'I'm older than I look.'

W
HEN
C
AROLINE WALKED OUT OF THE
T
AXONOMY
Building, Aubrey was there under the red-tiled portico
to bump into her.

'Caroline!' he said, doing his best to appear as if he
wasn't on the verge of collapse. 'Good to see you!'

Aubrey's intentions, schemes and strategies shrivelled
when he saw Caroline's face. He could tell she'd been
crying, not because of any red puffiness, but simply because
tears still hung on her lashes as if unwilling to leave.

'My position has been withdrawn,' she said. She waved
a hand. It had a small, white handkerchief crushed within
it. 'I no longer have a place to study.'

She sat on the base of one of the pillars that held up
the building's decorative arches. She gripped her handkerchief
in both hands and gazed, disconsolately, at the
flagstones a few feet in front of her.

Aubrey's conscience took the opportunity to give him
a substantial kicking. In quick succession, he felt regret,
guilt and remorse and began to understand the fine
distinctions between each of them. In the end, he abandoned
such niceties and, simply, his heart went out to
Caroline in her distress.

I've done the wrong thing
, he thought and he felt hollow
inside, but he remembered the loss of the Heart of Gold
– and what it could mean. Sometimes, sacrifices have to
be made.

'Tell me what happened,' he said.

Caroline adopted a brisk, business-like tone, but didn't
look at him. 'An administrative bungle, they said. They
claim they have only one position, and it's needed for a
Gallian student. Rather unapologetic, they were.' She
stood and frowned at the door out of which she'd just
come. 'I've a good mind to go straight back up there and
take them to task. I came here in good faith and I don't
think I should be treated like this.'

Hastily, Aubrey took her by the arm and steered her
in the opposite direction. 'Ah. Not a good idea, I'd say,
things being a bit delicate between Gallia and us. We
wouldn't want to confirm their suspicions that Albionites
are all insufferable, would we?'

'Aubrey?'

'Yes?'

'I can walk all by myself, you know. You can let go of
my arm.'

She set off. Aubrey fell in beside her. 'Your plans, then?'

'I don't know. Mother is well entrenched here with her
round of appointments and engagements.' She glanced at
Aubrey. 'It seems I'm at a loose end.'

'Loose end. Hmm.'

'It could give me some time to help Claude with his
production.'

Aubrey nearly tripped on the smooth stone of the
pavement, but gathered himself. 'Perhaps you'd like to
come with George and me while we try to take care of
those matters we discussed?'

They'd reached the street that led to the Hepworths'
apartment. Caroline stopped and watched the traffic go
by. 'I suppose I could find some time to help decide
the fate of nations.' She lifted her eyes to the sky for a
moment. 'It might give me a chance to see if I'm suited
to this intelligence-gathering business.'

'Good. I'd feel better if you would. You're very . . .'
He groped for something that wouldn't make him sound
like a complete dolt. 'Capable.'

As soon as he said it, he felt the mantle of complete
and utter dolthood settle on his shoulders. He accepted
it.

'Thank you, Aubrey.' She set off along the pavement.
'Every young woman strives to be capable.'

'I –'

'Never mind. I'm sure you meant it as a compliment.'

As they walked, Aubrey explained about von Stralick
and the meeting of the Marchmainers.

'That sounds a sensible place to start. What should I wear?'

'Dowdy would be good,' he suggested.

'We have a laundress who visits. I'll see if I can borrow
something from her.'

Aubrey walked Caroline to her apartment, where
Mrs Hepworth opened the door. She kissed her daughter
on the cheek. 'Darling.'

'Mother. I have to go to a meeting tonight. With
Aubrey.'

Mrs Hepworth considered this. 'A meeting. Why not a
night at the ballet?'

'It's a political meeting, Mrs Hepworth,' Aubrey said.

She laughed. 'You are indeed your father's son, Aubrey.'

Before he could query this, Caroline cut in. 'You must
be busy, Aubrey. We shouldn't keep you waiting.'

'Yes, but –'

'And what are you up to this afternoon?' Mars
Hepworth asked.

From his list of urgent, pressing things to do, Aubrey
plucked the first that came to mind. 'I have to find
Alphonse Caron.'

'The document merchant? He's an old friend of mine.'

Sometimes things fall neatly
, Aubrey thought. 'Do you
know where he is?'

'I haven't actually seen Alphonse for years, but the last
I heard he had a shop near the Meron Bridge. Let me
look in my address book.'

She went into the apartment, leaving Caroline and
Aubrey on the threshold.

Caroline fidgeted with her bag. 'Mother knows many
people in Lutetia.'

'So I see. She's an intelligence operative of an altogether
different kind.'

'If you need to find an artist or a writer, ask her.'
Caroline paused. 'She knows many politicians, too. And
generals.'

'I'm sure her address book is a veritable
Who's Who
.'

Mrs Hepworth appeared and held out a scrap of
lavender paper. 'Here, I've written down his address.'
She held it out. 'Now, Caroline darling, you promised
that you'd model for me after lunch. I do want to finish
that painting.'

Caroline sighed. 'Of course, Mother.'

They made their farewells. Aubrey stood transfixed on
the doorstep.

Caroline? Modelling?
He had difficulty in banishing
some intriguing images from his mind.

He made his way down to the street without really
knowing how. He cleared his throat, straightened his
hat and made himself shipshape. A good, solid task was
what he needed, even though he was bone-weary. He
convinced himself that his skin and his aching joints were
minor discomforts, and he read the scrap of paper that
was still in his hand.

Always in favour of intelligence gathering before a
frontal assault – or any assault, really – Aubrey saw that
the address was only a few streets away. He resolved to
investigate the address, then retire to the apartment to see
what Bernard's notebook contained.
And not forgetting the
Heart of Gold
, he thought, but he didn't even know where
to start there.

The address was in one of the side streets that guidebooks
would normally describe as 'quaint' or 'charming'.
Aubrey found it depressing, but it could simply have been
the unseasonably chilly breeze that was whipping down
the cobblestones. It made the striped awnings over the
shops snap in an unsettling fashion. The streetside tables
were empty, patrons having been driven inside by the
weather. They huddled, casting furtive glances at the day.