The Duke's Messenger (17 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Nell hastened down the short corridor, her mind riotous. She needed to put her thoughts in some kind of order. There was certainly no dearth of subjects to consider. Some were things she could tell her aunt, others she would die rather than have reach Phrynie’s disapproving ears. But she did not expect to explain Reeves’s assistance. It would not do to narrate in detail the coachman’s use of his unexpected talents, r Lady Sanford might well decide to dismiss him at the next town.

Better the doubts we have than those unknown. At least, Reeves seemed to be on their side, and a more useful partisan would be hard to find. She must at once allay Phrynie’s present anxiety, rejoice in the recovery of the parcel, and devote time to the consideration of a new and more secret place to hide it for the future.

Phrynie, clearly on the watch for her, opened the door before she reached it. “Nell, at last! You’ve been gone ages. Do you have it? Are you all right? Come in here by the fire, your hands are like ice!”

At least for the moment, Reeves must be placed on the shelf. It was incongruous — she smiled secretly at the thought — even to attempt to put that forceful individual aside like a useless satchel, but it must be done. She dared not reveal his part in tonight’s events.

“Tell me,” demanded Phrynie. “You succeeded, I can see that. Are you all right? You appear very odd to me.”

“The parcel,” began Nell, sinking into a chair beside her aunt’s hearth. “Here it is. Mullins, your cloak. It was just the thing.”

At Phrynie’s direction, the maid stirred up the fire and departed. “Now then, my dear child, what happened? I shall wish to hear it all. Pull your chair closer to the fire.”

“Do you think, Aunt,” asked Nell inconsequentially, “that ladies ever kept warm by these fires? What an insignificant blaze!”

Phrynie retorted, “Forget the fire. Besides, your cheeks look warm to me.” She looked carefully at her niece. It was clearly a time for setting the evening in order. She would get nothing from Nell in her present witless state. To give the girl credit, she had every right to tremble, and even to give way to hysterics. The only way to satisfy Phrynie’s quivering curiosity and at the same time to relieve Nell’s overset nerves was to exercise firmness. “Nell, where did you go when you left me?”

“Down the stairs.”

“To the outside? And then what did you do?”

Little by little she extracted the tale from her niece. The child must have been too long chilled, she thought, for her wits had surely scattered. “And the count is the thief?”

“I saw him through the window, Aunt. The parcel was on his writing desk in plain sight. He had to be the one too to put the parcel out of sight in his table drawer. I cannot understand, Aunt. I should think if he were without money he would have taken our jewels. Surely yours are worth a fortune.”

“I should not have brought them if we were not expecting to be entertained in Vienna.” Phrynie lapsed into thought for some moments. “I wonder, do you not, what is in that package? It does not look in the least official, you know, for the government seems to lavish red tape and sealing wax even on a directive to a scrubwoman. Why would the count feel it was worth stealing? And what would he do when he got it into his hands?”

“One might suspect that he was not a royalist after all. But how could a nobleman be other than a Bourbon partisan?”

Phrynie wore an arrested look. “That’s it. I remember now what I heard about him. He joined the Emperor. That’s it!”

“But his father was executed, along with the King!”

“Ah, but he hated his father! Now I recall. It was quite a bit of scandal at the time. The only way he could keep his estate from being confiscated was to turn his coat and join the rebels.”

“And you didn’t remember that?” marveled Nell.

“That was years ago, you know. Besides, I pay no heed to politics — they’re so dreary.” She paused, summoning up memory. “He joined the émigrés in London for a bit, but he did not seem to be one of them, if you understand me.”

“We should not have stopped here,” said Nell, more to herself than to her aunt.

“I know. But it did seem rude to pass on by without making a call. Nell, I cannot apologize sufficiently for my indiscretion. Can you forgive me?”

Nell rose to enfold her aunt in a warm hug and kiss her soft cheek. “Of course, Aunt. I should not ever mind what you do. At least — I have never burgled a house before. Perhaps the experience will be useful one day.”

Surprisingly Phrynie giggled. “If that is the worst activity you find to do, I shall be content.”

At length, Nell was alone. There was time now to take out the matter of the coachman and consider it thoughtfully. How little she knew of him! He was an excellent coachman, and an experienced housebreaker. She was required only to contemplate the competence and speed with which he opened a locked window to admire his proficiency in illegal pursuits. He was properly deferential, even wooden, in his attitude. “Yes, miss” and “Yes, my lady.” She felt her cheeks blazing. Deferential indeed, and far from wooden! Indeed Lord Foxhall with every right in the world would not be so impudent!

How could she travel on in Reeves’s company, knowing that delicious moment in the darkness lay between them, more like an abyss than a bridge? While Nell was not entirely unsophisticated, the question of how to deal with an impertinent servant had never come her way before. She could give a Tulip a set-down or airily dismiss a dandy so that he did not trouble her again — or even deal kindly but firmly with Nigel Whitley’s offer so that he went away without encouragement but with a sense of gratitude for her kindness. But Reeves was a hard nut to crack. He slid away from any attempts to place him in the proper slot like a salmon escaping from the net.

She was thankful now that she had not explained Reeves’s share in the events of the evening just past. She was positive that Lady Sanford, in an excess of zeal fueled by her own guilt, would take a disapproving view of both the coachman’s intervention and Nell’s easy acceptance of it. Her aunt would peremptorily dismiss him from her service at the first opportunity. Nell must not allow such an event to transpire.

She could take the reins herself, thought Nell, if it came to that. Her father’s coachman had taught her well. She could manage four horses for a short time, but it would be impossible for many reasons to drive the chariot into Vienna, herself on the box with whip in hand.

He should not have taken such liberties, she thought, climbing wearily into bed. But while her ingrained decorum shouted aloud at the infamous arrogance of the man, she was honest enough to recall that she had not found his kiss repellent. In fact, and she would have died rather than reveal this to anything more animate than her pillow, she had wished he had not drawn away.

She would be very very cold to him on the morrow. He would not dare to approach her again in such a fashion. And, she told herself, that was no reason to feel so unaccountably low in spirits.

A curious thing came into her mind. He had not seemed in the least curious about the odd parcel, or why it had been stolen by the count. From what he said, he expected the stolen article to be an earring or perhaps another piece of jewelry. When he caught sight of the plainly wrapped parcel in the table drawer, he was not, as far as she could discern, surprised. But equally astonishing, he asked no question about it. Could it be that he already knew what it was?

Nonsense! There was no possible way he could know about Mr. Haveney’s parcel. Reeves had been in Calais for days before the duke’s man had called in Mount Street, hadn’t he? No, she decided, he had something else on his mind. And that something else she would never think of again!

She lay in bed a long time before she felt sleep approaching. Her last thought was, better the rogue she knew than a rogue she did not.

*

Morning arrived all too soon for Nell, in one way, for she had too little sleep. But in another way, she was more than anxious to put the Château Pernoud behind her forever. Her aunt had recalled that the count was a turncoat, a traitor to his family, and therefore capable of any depravity. Nell could regret that her aunt’s memory had been tardy, for had they spent the night in the
auberge
in Hautvillers she would not now be suffering from a throbbing head and a throat made sore by her chilly vigil in the night.

Phrynie swept into Nell’s room, already dressed. “Come, Nell, wake up! I do not wish to stay in this dismal spot a moment longer than necessary.” Her voice dropped. “Do you think the count will — do anything to us?”

Nell opened her eyes. Her aunt was leaning over her, and she could see a spark of apprehension leap in the sapphire-blue eyes. “Do anything?” She threw back the covers. “Has something else happened?”

“Not that I know of. I sent Mullins to rouse Reeves and Potter at once. I should not like to stay even for a cup of coffee.”

But her wishes were not fulfilled. Even though the count himself was barely out of his bed and sleep still blurred his perceptions, he insisted upon providing at least coffee. Before they had finished the light repast, he told them, “I have arranged for a picnic luncheon to be placed in your coach, Lady Sanford.” Over her protests, he added, “Here comes Emile now to tell us that it is done.”

Emile proved to be the servant with the repellent squint. He mumbled a word or two to his master and then retreated a short distance.

“I am sure,” said the count, “that you will find no inn along your road suitable for a nuncheon. That is, if you continue on the road to Saarbrücken?”

Phrynie cast a glance of inquiry at Nell. Receiving no answer, she said, airily, “I must confess that I do not pay much heed to the way we are to go. I have every confidence in my coachman.”

To Nell’s suspicious eye, the count appeared nettled, as though he had not received the information he wished. But Reeves was suddenly beside them, and Lady Sanford was quickly installed in the coach.

As he handed Nell into the carriage after her aunt he murmured, in a conspiratorial fashion, “We must hurry before all is discovered.” She refused to meet his eyes, contenting herself with a short nod of agreement.

It was clear that Reeves followed his own advice, for although the chariot left the drive before the entrance in a leisurely fashion, the horses at a decorous walk, by the time they rounded a curve and were hidden from the chateau by the forest, the team had been put into a fast trot.

The rhythmic rocking of the vehicle combined with her unaccustomed exertions the night before to put Nell into a drowsy mood, and before long she was entirely asleep. As she half awakened when the carriage slowed she realized that she was wrapped in a feeling of certainty that she was safe while Reeves was at hand. With a start she understood that she did not confine that feeling only to the occasions when he held the reins in his hands.

Even their own coachman, now at home on the Aspinall estate, had not instilled in her such a feeling.

The question, triggered by the thought of the old family servant, followed at once: where in the world was Tom?

*

Reeves did not pull the team up until they were far along the road, and the weak sun was nearly at its zenith. He sent Potter to inquire of Lady Sanford whether he should look for a posting house for the ladies’ nuncheon.

“A nuncheon? No need, Potter, for the count has provided us a picnic, you know. I am sure there is plenty for us all.”

Nell broke in. “Aunt, I should much rather,” she said with a significant glance, “stop at an inn. It is hardly the weather for an outing, you know.”

Phrynie understood her. After giving instructions, and after the coach was under way for the town that lay in sight on the horizon, she murmured, “Quite right. He may have dropped some toxiferous substance in the wine.”

“I should detest thinking so, as an ordinary thing, you know,” said Nell, “but only a hen-witted idiot would not see that it would be quite to his advantage if we were unable to inform anyone of his crime.”

Phrynie managed a laugh. “I wonder what he will do when he finds the parcel gone?”

“Let us hope that he does not send after it.”

By this time, Nell had in hand sufficient questions to hold Reeves in conversation for a fortnight. She had little hope of receiving satisfactory answers, but certainly she must make the effort.

At the posting house, she ate little, scheming to find Reeves alone. The opportunity did not present itself until they had stopped for the night. Reeves had sent the coach on to the stables, promising to follow at once to see to the cattle. He watched the huge vehicle trundle away and turned to find Nell standing beside him.

“Sorry, miss,” he said. “Were you wishing to have your luggage brought into the inn?”

“Will it be safer?”

Reeves permitted a wintry smile to cross his features. “All depends on where your — your valuables, I should say — are located.” His lips tightened. “Miss,”

“I am keeping an eye on them myself,” she retorted. “I did not tell you that Mullins was instructed to guard our jewels last night, and the count’s cook apparently lured her away.”

He nodded. “I suspected something of the sort.”

She was reluctant to leave him. “Do you think, Reeves,” she said slowly, “that we have done with the count? By now he must have found out that the — the parcel — is not in his table drawer. Will he know we have it back?”