Mademoiselle At Arms (8 page)

‘You’re saying she is not his wife?’

‘I am saying nothing.’

Gerald eyed her. She knew the truth of it all right. ‘Word
has it that she is English on her father’s side.’

‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips.

‘Her own,’ Gerald replied.

‘
Exactement
.’

‘Damnation!’ Gerald burst out, crossing towards her. ‘Will
you stop hedging? I’m hanged if I go on with this ridiculous cat and mouse game.
Give me your name, girl!’

‘Again?’ Mademoiselle rolled her eyes. ‘
Eh bien
, Eugénie.
Or I should say—’

‘Eugenia,’ cut in Gerald grimly. ‘I thank you. I daresay that
is one of the names of the nuns in your convent.’

‘The nuns?’ she said, gazing at him innocently. ‘Certainly,
if I was a nun, I know of many good names.’ She counted off on her fingers. ‘There
is Bernadette, Marie-Thérèse, Marie-Joséphine, Marie-Claire, Henriette—’

Exasperated, Gerald seized her by the shoulders. ‘I don’t
want a list of all the nuns resident in your wretched convent. I am aware that
you ran away from there, but—’

‘Certainly I ran away,’ she said, meeting his gaze with
defiance in her own. ‘And if you like, I will tell you why.’

For the space of half a minute, Gerald continued to scowl in
silent frustration. But the sheer tenacity of the girl defeated him. He laughed
suddenly, and released her.

‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I
shall end by strangling you.’

‘
Comment
? You wish to murder me?’

‘No, I wish to beat you,’ he retorted. ‘In fact, I’ve never
met anyone who goaded me to so much violence.’

The girl nodded understandingly. ‘Yes, that is what the nuns
they said of me.’

‘You surprise me.’ Relaxing back, Gerald folded his arms. ‘Very
well, then. Tell me why you ran away from the convent.’

‘So would you run away,’ she uttered impulsively. ‘I do not
mind to pray, no. Even, I do not mind to study this Latin so abominable. But
this is not sufficient. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant,
even if one is a lady.’

‘How shocking.’

‘Yes, but I do not like to scrub the floor and peel the
vegetables and feed the pig. So it is that I do not do these things. But I
must, they say, and try to make me with the punishments.’

‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her.

A radiant smile astonished him. ‘As to that, I am a devil,
say the nuns. Because for the punishments
je m’en moque
.’

‘You didn’t care. Yes, I can readily believe it.’

‘In one little minute,’ she said, snapping her fingers, ‘it
is over and
voilà tout
.’

‘Forgive me, but if that is the case, I don’t quite see why
you should run away.’

‘Ah, that was an affair altogether different,’ she explained
and fluttered her long lashes at him. The by now familiar dramatic sigh came. ‘There
was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. He tried to make love to me.
Oh, it was very bad.’ She spread her hands. ‘What would you? The nuns they
would not believe me, and so it was not possible for me to stay. I was
compelled to run away.’

‘All the way to England?’

She opened wide eyes. ‘But it is entirely natural that I
choose my own country.’

Footsteps sounded just outside, and Captain Roding walked in.
The major hailed him with a show of relief.

‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better
yet, your sword.’ He moved to his friend and grasped his hand in a gesture as
deliberately dramatic as the storytelling of mademoiselle. ‘If you care for me
at all, shoot me. Or run me through. I’d rather die than hear any more
fairytales.’

‘
Dieu du ciel
,’ came from the lady in a furious tone,
before the astonished Roding could respond. ‘This is insupportable. There is no
need of your friend to kill you,
imbecile
, because I shall do so this
minute.’

Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her
habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet. Gerald saw her extract
something and leapt aside, calling a warning to Hilary.

There was just time for the girl to raise her arm to chest
height and draw it back before Roding seized her. The slim knife was wrested
from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases. She threw
out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance,
tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling
off as she did so.

‘Oh, Lord,’ muttered Gerald, going instantly to her aid.

Furiously, she dashed his hands away. ‘
Bête
. I will
arise myself.’

Ignoring this, the major slipped his hands about her waist
and lifted her to her feet.

‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ protested Hilary
angrily. ‘You should rather be arresting the girl and throwing her into gaol
for attempted murder.’

‘For God’s sake, don’t accuse her of murder,’ begged Gerald,
retrieving the lady’s hat and handing it to her, ‘or she’ll be challenging me
to a duel again.’

‘You,’ announced the lady, throwing an explosive glare at the
captain, ‘are a person entirely without sense. Certainly I would not murder
monsieur
le major
, even that he has made a threat to beat me.’

‘I like that,’ Gerald protested. ‘After all the threats you’ve
made, that is hardly fair.’

‘I’m hanged if I can make out either of you,’ complained
Hilary. ‘Mad as hatters!’

‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. ‘Gérard
is not mad, only of a disposition entirely interfering.’

‘And you are of a disposition entirely untruthful,’ retorted Gerald.
‘Have you any more pretty toys like that knife about you?’

‘The girl’s a regular arsenal,’ Hilary snapped, giving up
into his senior’s hand the nasty little weapon he had snatched.

‘It is necessary that one is at all times ready to protect
oneself,’ explained the young lady flatly. ‘So Leonardo has taught me.’

‘Leonardo?’ An abrupt sensation of severe irritation attacked
Gerald.

‘Who the devil is Leonardo?’ demanded Roding impatiently,
asking the question that had leapt into the major’s mind.

‘Oh,
peste
,’ she cried out in distressed tones. ‘You
make me talk, you make me talk.
Diable
.’

Then she jammed her hat on her head all anyhow and ran from
the room.

Hilary started after her, but Gerald stopped him.

‘Let her go. Did you warn Frith?’

‘Yes. He’s waiting.’

‘Good. When he’s found out where she’s staying, I’ll have him
keep an eye on Valade’s residence in Paddington, I think.’ Then memory hit and
he stared at his friend. ‘And just who is Leonardo?’

‘How in God’s name should I know?’ demanded Roding irascibly.

‘He can’t be Valade, that’s certain,’ mused Gerald, unheeding.
‘She obviously likes Leonardo. Which means after all that she did not expect to
marry Valade. But in that case, why the raging jealousy about Madame having
taken her place. Unless—’ Something clicked in his mind and he stared at his
friend without seeing him. ‘Lord in heaven, could it be so?’

‘Don’t look at me,’ exploded Hilary. ‘I don’t know what the
devil you’re talking about.’

Gerald ignored this. ‘She knows them. Both of them. And if
the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it.’ He became aware of
his friend’s face before him. ‘What do you think?’

‘What do I think?’ repeated Captain Roding. ‘I think you’ve
gone stark, staring crazy. Why can’t you let it be?’

Gerald grinned at him. ‘What, and miss getting myself
murdered?’

‘She said she wouldn’t murder you.’

‘Don’t you believe it. She’d have thrown this thing if you
hadn’t stopped her. My thanks, by the by.’

The captain shook his head. ‘I just don’t understand you, Gerald.
If you know her for the vicious, scheming wretch that she is, why in God’s name—?’

‘She’s not a vicious, scheming wretch,’ Gerald said calmly. ‘She’s
an evil-tempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought. And
she’s pluck to the backbone.’

Hilary stared at him. ‘You’re either mad, or in love.’

‘
What
?’ gasped Alderley in shock. ‘In love? I? Don’t
be ridiculous.’

‘Then you’re mad,’ Roding said flatly, and suddenly grinned. ‘But
I’ve known that for years.’

Gerald laughed and clapped him on the back. ‘Lucky I have you
to keep me from Bedlam, then.’

‘Don’t count on it. You’ll end there one day, mark my words.’
Then Hilary became serious again. ‘Well, I can see you won’t let it alone, so
what do you propose to do about the wench?’

‘I’ll die before I let it alone,’ Gerald vowed. ‘As for what
to do, I wonder if young Charvill would be worth a visit. And I think I must
pursue my acquaintance with the fulsome Madame Valade.’

Mrs Chalkney, a long-time friend of the late Mrs Alderley,
had been delighted to oblige that lady’s son. ‘Get you invited to a party where
the French
émigrés
will be present? Nothing easier, dear boy. I am
having them to my own soirée on Monday.’

‘Excellent,’ Gerald had approved.

‘I did not send you a card because in the normal way of
things you rarely attend such affairs.’

‘Ah, but I have a special reason for doing so this time.’

Mrs Chalkney lifted her brows. ‘Indeed?’

Gerald grinned. ‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation. But don’t run
away with the idea that I’m hanging out for a wife at last, because I’m not.’

‘Gracious heaven, Gerald! If your dear mama could not drag
you to the altar, I am hardly likely to succeed.’

‘In any event,’ Gerald told her, with a grin, ‘I can’t marry
this one. She’s already spoken for.’

He endured the inevitable scold with patience, saluted Mrs
Chalkney’s faded cheek, and went off to endure the necessary delay with what
patience he could muster. What more was to be done? Frith’s investigations had
proved fruitful, and the man was now keeping an eye on Valade. Gerald hoped he
had covered all options and had resisted the temptation to pay mademoiselle a
visit. In any case, there was no doing anything on a Sunday and Brewis
Charvill, his main quarry, had gone out of town unexpectedly. An action which
gave Gerald furiously to think. Had Valade been to see him? Possibly even
yesterday when he was followed by some young lad—and the girl, of course. It
was all highly intriguing.

On Monday Charvill had still not returned, and the major duly
presented himself at Mrs Chalkney’s house in Grosvenor Square, thanking his
stars that his friend Roding would not be there to spoil sport.

Madame Valade was looking heartily bored, he noted, as his
searching eyes found out the couple. He could scarcely blame her. Valade, who
was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with
a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with
a discontented air. Or was that perhaps because his business in Piccadilly the
other day had gone awry? Perhaps Brewis Charvill had not welcomed him with open
arms.

Gerald noted the lady’s eyes brighten as she caught sight of
him making his way through the throng towards her. Now how in the world was he
to get rid of the husband?

His luck was in. Just as he reached them, the Comte de St
Erme drew Valade a little apart and began to converse with him in rapid French.
Valade accorded the major’s greeting a brief nod and gave his attention back to
St Erme.

Gerald took Madame’s hand and kissed the fingers with a
little more warmth than punctilio demanded. ‘Madame, I trust I see you well?’

‘
Merci
.’ She inclined her head, looking up at him
through her lashes, and passing a tongue lightly over her lips.

Gerald smiled and crooked his elbow. ‘A little promenade,
madame?’

Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with
alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. The close-fitting round
gown, if a little old-fashioned with its very narrow waist and wide skirts, was
becoming on a full figure, and the low décolletage, unencumbered by any form of
covering, exposed a good deal of bosom. The lady murmured briefly to her
husband, and then tucked her hand into Alderley’s arm.

‘We will converse in your own tongue,’ he said in French as
he led her away. ‘And I trust you will pardon my inadequacies.’

Madame gave one of those breathy laughs. ‘They cannot be
worse than mine in English, monsieur.’

While he trod a deliberate path through the pink saloon
towards the door, Gerald encouraged a flow of harmless chatter about the people
Madame had met and the parties she had attended. But once he had steered the
lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he
abandoned the subject of society.