The Man in the Green Coat (20 page)

“Madame! Then he is still alive! Oh, what did he say?”

"He sends us all his love, and he will be with us before the end of next month!”

Chapter 18

Luke woke early and contemplated the day before him with loathing. After all his travels he had spent a week catching up on paperwork, and there was at least another week’s worth left before he would be able to spare the time to go down to Wrotham.

It was over a month since he had seen Gabrielle. Did she remember that day at Ightham with the same pleasure that he did? Was she enjoying herself at his home, or was she bored with country pleasures and longing for adventure? Surely it could not be as dull as her life in Neuchâtel, he reassured himself.

Baxter stuck his bald head round the door, saw that his master was awake, and came in.

“Letter, sir.”

“The post cannot have come yet. Where is it from?”

“Wrotham, sir.”

“Give it here.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Who brought it?”

“Groom, sir.”

Luke scanned the brief note from his father.

“My brother has had an accident. We leave for Kent at once.”

“Mr Davis, sir?”

“Yes, notify him. No, wait. Devil take it, I shall have to take some work down with me or we’ll never get straight. We’ll leave at noon, Baxter, on the dot.”

“Sir.”

Luke bounded out of bed. Mingled with his concern for Rolf was gladness at the prospect of seeing Gabrielle so soon.

They arrived at Wrotham in mid-afternoon. While Baxter, eagle-eyed, supervised the removal of several locked boxes of papers from carriage to study, Luke hurried to the drawing room.

Lady Cecilia had heard his arrival and came out, closing the door behind her.

“Luke, I am glad you are come!”

“How is he, ma’am? What happened?”

“The doctor and your father are with him now. He has broke his leg, but the chiefest worry is his head. He has what the doctor describes as a ‘nasty concussion.’ He has not been properly conscious since the accident.”

Luke put his arm round her shoulders. “How did it come about? What was the rapscallion up to? Come and sit down, Cecilia, you are alarmingly pale.”

“No, wait.” She resisted the pressure of his arm towards the drawing room. “Rolf and Gerard were climbing in the old quarry. Rolf fell and knocked Gerard down, but Gerard has only a sprained ankle, you need not fear for him. Rolf was stuck on a ledge halfway up, and being half conscious was in the utmost danger of rolling off. Luke, I know how you dislike and distrust Monsieur de Vignard, but you must admire him now! He climbed up there, in peril of life and limb, and stayed with Rolf until help came. We can only be thankful that he was present. Your father and I will never be able to pay our debt to him!”

Luke was at a loss for words.

“So do, pray, try to bring yourself to express your gratitude,” she continued, “and at the very least, I beg you will not scowl at him in your fearful way.”

“But, Cecilia, there is a very good chance that he may be a French spy!”

She gasped. “No! It cannot be!”

“We have no proof as yet, but the evidence points that way. To insinuate himself into my family may be a very clever move on his part.”

“You will not accuse him of causing the accident!”

“No, I cannot see how he could have done that. But. . .”

“Luke, I will not listen to you. He risked his life for Rolf, and nothing you say can change that. Perhaps one day you will arrest him and carry him off, but in the meantime he has my prayers. Now come in, and I hope you will be polite, if only so that he does not guess your suspicions.”

Besides Alain, they found Dorothea, Gabrielle and Lady Harrison in the drawing room. There was a flurry of greetings, and before Luke found himself obliged to speak specifically to Alain, the doctor came in.

Silently all eyes turned to him.

“Master Rolf is much improved, my lady,” he announced. “He recognised his lordship and asked after Mr Darcy. I have every expectation that his mind is undamaged. However, he is not yet out of danger. At all costs he must be kept quiet or I will not answer for the consequences.

The verdict was so uncertain that no one had anything to say. Lady Cecilia broke the silence.

“Thank you,” she said to the doctor. “We will do our best to keep him calm. Lady Harrison, you will excuse me if I go up to him now.”

“
Mais certainement
, madame. Gabrielle, come, it is time we went home. Gerard will be wondering where we are.”

“May I go with you, ma’am?” asked Luke. “I have a lowering feeling that my presence may be considered too exciting for my brother, so I shall inflict myself on Gerard instead.”

Gabrielle smiled at him, stars in her eyes. “Yes, do come,” she said, “and stay for dinner. You can help Alain carry Gerard down, and then perhaps he will stop complaining about being cooped up in his chamber. He is fretted to death about Rolf, you know.”

She turned to Dorothea, who was looking rather lost, and added, “Dorrie, surely your mama will not object to your joining us?”

They strolled down through the gardens to the Dower House. At first Luke kept a strict watch on Alain en route, though he had much rather have been looking at Gabrielle, but his gaze kept sliding in a puzzled way to Lady Harrison. At last he tugged on Gabrielle’s arm and held her back while the others went on.

“What has happened to your Madame Aurore?” he asked. ‘She is vastly changed since I last saw her, but I cannot put my finger on the difference.”

She giggled. “That is because the difference is an absence. She has lost I know not how many pounds of her embonpoint. She begins to look almost beautiful, does she not?”

“Unquestionably. She has that superb Parisian carriage and chic, now that it can be seen. Would it be improper of me to congratulate her?”

“Not at all. She is prodigious proud of herself and will be delighted that you noticed. Come and tell her.” She started after them.

Wait
, he wanted to say,
did you miss me?
But suppose she laughed and said no, she had been too busy by far. Or suppose she said yes . . He was in no position to follow that opening to its logical conclusion.

He went after her.

Lady Harrison was charmed by his awkward compliment. She was anything but charmed when she reached the Dower House and Tombaugh informed her that Sir Oswald Harrison had called and was awaiting her return in the drawing room.

“
Mon dieu
!” she exclaimed. “
Qu’est-ce qu’il veut, ce canaille?
What does this ...this . . .”

“Scoundrel?” suggested Luke.

“Ah, bon, merci! What does this scoundrel want with me?”

"I don’t know, my lady,” said Tombaugh stolidly, “But being as he said he’s a fair bit from home, and your la’ship’s a relative, Mrs Tombaugh made up the back bedchamber.”

“
Quelle effronterie!
Mr Everett, what must I do?”

“I will confront him at once if you wish, ma’am. However, I had intended to speak to the lawyer, Hubble, first. And I still think that the best plan.”

“Then I must endeavour to treat the
scélérat
with politeness.” Lady Harrison swept into the drawing room, and they all followed.

Sir Oswald seemed disconcerted that Luke was present.

“Ah, Everett, you here?” he said inanely.

“As you see. Wrotham is my home, after all.”

“Yes, yes, of course, but thought you was fixed in town. Didn’t know you was particularly acquainted with my stepmother.”

“Exceptionally well acquainted,” Luke assured him smoothly. Remembering Davis, he added, “Having succeeded your late lamented father at the Foreign Office, I feel a certain obligation to look out for the interests of his widow, you see.”

He was pleased to see that the baronet looked decidedly out of countenance.

Gerard came down for dinner. Between Sir Oswald’s forced joviality and the thought of Rolf’s uncertain condition, it was not a merry meal. Gerard protested when Gabrielle insisted that he return to bed immediately afterwards, but in a perfunctory way. He was still aching and shaky from his fall.

He begged Luke and Alain to keep him company in a game of cards. “Otherwise Gabrielle will hover over me,” he said. “Sisters can be a dratted nuisance at times.”

“They can indeed!” agreed Luke, carefully not looking at Alain, the cause of the only trouble he had ever had with Dorothea.

“You do not know how lucky you are!” the young Frenchman burst out. “If my sister were only . . . But enough! I will go and ask Lady Harrison if she feels in need of my support, and if not I shall be happy to join you in a game.” He went out, leaving Luke frowning in thought.

“I’ve never heard him mention his sister before,” said Gerard. “He’s not seen her since he escaped from France. I thought she was dead.”

“Maybe,” said Luke noncommittally.

Alain returned to report that Sir Oswald had already retired, claiming to feel the onset of a cold. They played cards for a while, until Gerard felt sleepy and Luke remembered that he had work to do.

He and Dorothea walked up to the Great House across the moonlit park. They both cautiously avoided Alain’s name. Luke ascertained that his brother was sleeping peacefully, and then settled in his father’s study with his boxes of papers.

He worked steadily for three hours, until he heard the clock in the entrance hall strike one. With a sigh he put away the documents, locked the boxes, lit a candle and turned out the lamp. He walked to the French doors and looked down the hill towards the Dower House.

The moon was sinking in the western sky, casting mysterious shadows beneath the trees. The leaves, moving restlessly in the breeze, let pass the faint light from a single window. Was Gabrielle still awake? Was she looking up at his light, his single candle, and wondering what he was doing?

The window went dark. He took the candle and went to bed.

* * * *

Rolf was much improved the next day. On the other hand, Sir Oswald declared himself to be far too ill to depart as intended. Grumbling mightily, Tombaugh carried up his breakfast, and later brought down an empty tray. The cold did not seem to have affected the baronet’s appetite.

Lord Everett asked Luke to see after the hop harvesters for him. His determination to stay at Rolf’s bedside bewildered Luke, who remembered not seeing his father for months on end during his own childhood. He spoke to Gabrielle about it as they rode between the aromatic vines, watching the men carrying baskets of hops to the oast houses to be dried.

“Dorothea has told me a little about it,” she said hesitantly. “I mean, about how he used to be a sad rattle, and a member of the Prince’s set, until he retired here. Perhaps you do not realise how much he has changed. I have never met anyone more devoted to his family and his land. And it is a joy to see how much he and Lady Cecilia love each other.”

“They do? But he is so much older!”

“It does not seem to matter in the least. I think—you will tell me if I speak too boldly—I think perhaps you are a little jealous of her, for your mother’s sake.”

“My mother died when I was very small,” he said, frowning. “I do not remember her at all. And my father was always in town. I am no part of the family to which he is suddenly so devoted!”

She reached towards him. “Do not say so! His first thought, when it was discovered how badly Rolf was injured, was to send for you. And if you had seen the difference in Lady Cecilia before and after you came! It was as if her burden had been lightened. Dorothea kept saying that it would never have happened had you been here. Oh, you are part of that family, never doubt it!”

He took her hand above the row of vines between them, and looked at her searchingly. He had never seen her so earnest, her voice so serious and full of compassion.

“Thank you,” he said simply. He pressed her fingers and let go.

She smiled, though teardrops sparkled in her eyes. “I envy you your family,” she said.

“You were old enough to remember losing your mother. Do you still grieve for her?”

“That was long ago and far away. One cannot weep forever. But I have not yet told you our great news. My father is on his way home!”

He congratulated her with perfect sincerity, then fell thoughtfully silent. Her father’s arrival could not but change his relationship with her, whether for better or worse there was no way of knowing. Who and what was Mr Darcy?

* * * *

That evening he sat again in the study. On the desk before him lay a half finished report for Lord Hawkesbury, detailing his meeting with the Prince of Wales. His mind was far away.

The house was silent. Though Lord Everett insisted on dining late, he generally retired at eleven and the rest of the household followed suit. An owl hooted in the distance; Luke got up restlessly, walked to the open French door and looked out. Across the park, once again bathed in moonlight, Gabrielle’s window was dark.

He returned to the desk and tried to concentrate on Prinny’s exact words.

A sound on the terrace outside made him raise his head to listen. He was just beginning to turn when a shot cracked the night, and his lamp went out in a shower of glass. A second shot rang out.

There was a burning pain in his shoulder. He put his hand to it and felt a wetness already beginning to seep through his coat. Standing up, he took two paces towards the figure he dimly saw outlined against the moonlight, then crumpled to the floor.

He came to a moment later, forced himself to his feet and staggered to the mantel. Fumblingly he took the tinderbox, struck a spark and lit a candle. He turned, holding it high with his good arm.

Gabrielle leaned against the doorpost, one hand to her head, the other grasping a pistol.

“You!” he cried, aghast, and sank down on the nearest chair.

She stared at him blankly.

“Go ahead,” he said, filled with a vast despair. “Finish it off. I won’t try to stop you."

“Luke?” She took a wavering step toward him. Her cloak fell open to reveal the nightdress beneath. “Are you all right?”

She seemed suddenly to notice the gun in her hand, and put it down on a table. Then the enormity of his words seeped in. “Oh, Luke! You don’t think I shot you? It was a man! I saw him from my window, sneaking up here, and I came as fast as I could. He hit me on the head as he left, and he must have dropped the gun. I don’t know why I picked it up. I was a little dizzy.”