The Orphan's Tale (26 page)

"
But what of Cheat-Death?" Elise asked. "Did he allow you to turn away from him?"

Malet's smile became vaguely vicious.
"Oh, I didn't turn away," he said. "I knew he'd kill Papa if I did, so I went along through the years, his acknowledged apprentice and successor, learning all his skills to use against him and his when I was finally free of that hell. He never suspected."

"
What happened to your papa?" asked Elise. "Did he have to stay in the prison after you left?"

"
No," Malet replied. "He died eight months before I left. We thought I could secure his release once I had left the prison. I had something I could offer in exchange for his freedom, and he was old and harmless and had been of use in the years he was imprisoned. He was going to live with me. He said I was his last, and best, child. I didn't tell him I had saved enough money to pay his passage back to America. I wanted to surprise him, but he died. I did tell him... He never saw Massachusetts again. I would have given my right arm if he could have..." He fell silent for a long time.

Finally he turned back to Elise.
"Well," he said. "They buried him at sea. After that I watched the stars and waited for my fifteenth birthday."

"
And you left the prison and went into the Police."

"
Yes," said Malet. "I walked all the way from Toulon to Marseilles. I don't think the Prefect of the Bouches du Rhone Departement was ever so shocked as he was at the moment Cheat-Death's acknowledged heir came before him carrying a ragged pack and asked to join the Police as a constable. I thought he'd soil his trousers."

"P
aul!"

"
I am serious. Especially when I told him I had the information that would easily nail four of the biggest operators in southern France. And it did. I was the Chief Constable of Marseilles five years later."

Elise nodded and looked around at the park.
"Lift me down, Paul," she said. "I'd like to walk with you a little..."

She smiled at him as he dismounted and reached up to set his hands around her waist.
She steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her to the ground. She knew she was no featherweight, but he gave no indication that she was as heavy as she knew herself to be. His hands lingered at her waist, and she did not release his shoulders for a moment.

"
Thank you Paul," she said softly.

"
It was my pleasure," he replied, his voice equally quiet.

She leaned down to gather her skirts and arrange the trailing hem over one arm while he took the reins of both horses in his right hand.
He offered his left arm when her skirts were arranged to her satisfaction.

"
There's a pavilion here where we can enjoy tea," he said. "Or they have coffee and ices if you prefer."

"
Tea," she said. "It sounds lovely... It's been so long since I have done this."

"
Then I am glad I talked you into coming out this afternoon," Malet said as they went slowly down the shaded path. "I'd hoped I could pass the afternoon like this with you."

Elise stopped and turned to face him.
Her voice lowered. "You know, Paul," she said, "I'd go anywhere with you. I know I'd be safe with you - and you with me."

His expression did not change, but his eyes warmed as he looked down at her, and he silently raised her hand to his lips.

She smiled at him and turned her hand to touch his cheek lightly for a moment. "Do you think I am foolish?" she asked.

"
I think you're perfectly delightful," he returned.

"
That wasn't the question," she said.

"
But that is my answer," he said.

CHIEF INSPECTOR MALET ENTERS THE FRAY

A
utumn was Yvette's favorite time of year. She loved the crisp bite of the wind, the leaves that fell like gold and scarlet snowflakes and danced like troupes of gypsies before the capricious winds. It reminded her that the worst heat of the summer was past and the pageantry of Christmas was coming. It was autumn that brought the sweet-scented late roses that she prized and planted in profusion all around the Rose d'Or.

This autumn had been especially beautiful, and of all the magnificent mornings that she had seen, this specific morning was the finest.
She awoke in time to watch the sunrise from her window, and went out to milk the inn's four cows. She kindled the fires in the kitchen and got preparations underway for breakfast, including making a pot of cinnamon coffee especially for herself and Inspector de Colbert.

He was late to rise this morning.
But that was probably because he had been very busy over the past several days entertaining a visitor from England, a man named Sir Robert Peel. The man was involved in some way with the British constabulary and was in France at the invitation of the Minister of Police to review the French Police system.

M. Paul had spent the last four days in the company of the Count and Sir Robert.
He had seemed rather grim the first day, and the rosette of a Grand Eagle of the Legion d'Honneur had been conspicuous in his buttonhole. He had brought the two to the Rose d'Or to try the ale and the food. He and Peel had spent over an hour there drinking ale and talking in English.

M. Peel was gone now, and no doubt M. Paul felt that he'd earned a morning lying abed rather later than usual.
That suited Yvette perfectly: it gave her time to prepare a proper breakfast. She had all the makings ready: she could start his breakfast when he came downstairs.

She filled her watering
-pot and carried it out to the street. The roses were in full bloom, and although people teased her about her extravagance, she carefully watered and trimmed the plants every second day. It was time to do it again.

She was famous for her rosebushes, and they were responsible for the presence in the inn of two guests, Aloysius Stanley from
Portsmouth, and his wife, Abigail. The Stanleys loved flowers, especially roses, and they had seen them the night before and resolved there and then to stay in a place that had such magnificent blooms. They had spoken of gardening all the previous night, he in terrible French, and when they finally retired, Mr. Stanley kissed Yvette's hand and promised to send her some cuttings from his gardens.

She took her pruning scissors and carefully cut away some flowers that had gone by, and then bent to savor their heady scent.
A party of four men passed her as she straightened. She recognized René Benoit and three of Constant Dracquet's people, bruisers who made her very nervous. They usually behaved themselves at the inn, thanks to the presence of Yves' farmhands, but Yvette always tried to keep out of their way.

Dracquet's men!
At this hour! Well, well!

Yvette rubbed her lower lip thoughtfully and turned to watch them go along the street toward the courtyard.

Dracquet had sent his men by six times, and each time they had missed their 'police officer'. They hadn't been happy, and yesterday they had been unpleasant to Claude, giving good cause to a man who already disliked them enough.

"
What do you want, messieurs?" Claude had asked finally as he wiped his hands on a towel. "The man rises early and leaves early. What are we to do? Forbid him to leave? He's a guest: I'd never be so rude, and Mme. de Clichy would certainly forbid it!"

"
Tell him that M. Dracquet is growing impatient," the leader had said.

Claude had merely shrugged.
"You'll terrify him, messieurs," he had said, politely opening the door.

Now a motion at one of the upstairs windows, a hand drawing a curtain aside, caught Yvette's attention.
She looked up and saw Inspector de Colbert gazing down at her. He saw that Yvette had caught sight of him: he pointed at the men and lifted his eyebrows.

She nodded.

He scowled, returned the nod, and lowered the curtain again.

"
Trouble ahead," said Yvette with a smile.

**  **  **

"Good Morning, Mme. de Clichy," said René Benoit with labored politeness. "Is your Police officer in today?"

"
He's not 'my' police officer, and yes, he is in," Elise replied composedly. "In fact, he hasn't come down to breakfast yet."

"
Splendid. Then maybe we can finally speak with this elusive fellow," Benoit said, sitting down. "You did give him my messages, I hope."

"
I mentioned that you had called at the inn, yes.  Have you breakfasted yet?"

"
Not yet," Benoit replied. He motioned to the others to sit down. "We'll have some of your cooking, if you don't object."

"
Not at all, monsieur.  Your money is as good here as anywhere else. Alcide can take your order when you're ready." She inclined her head to the man and went over to the tap.

Elise looked up and smiled at Yvette when she came in with her watering
-can and a large bunch of roses. "Use Raoul's vase, havette," she suggested. "We can put them on the mantel in the salon, and the vase will set them off very well."

Yvette agreed, got the vase, and sat down before the tap to arrange the flowers.

Alcide went over to the table, spoke quietly with Dracquet's men, and then went back into the kitchen.

"
He's annoyed," said Yvette in an undertone. "And M. Paul - " She stopped as the boards over their heads creaked.

Benoit looked up, directed a frown at them, and then sat up straighter as heavy footsteps sounded overhead, proceeded deliberately down the hallway toward the stairs and then down the steps.

Elise turned and watched as Mr. Stanley entered the room, puffing a little, bowed to them, and sat down at a table. Other customers had come into the common-room as well: Yvette and Marie got up and went over to them.

Benoit nodded to one of the others, a tall, heavyset fellow with reddish hair.

The man returned the nod. "It's taken you long enough!" he said through his teeth as he pushed himself to his feet and stalked over to Mr. Stanley. "I have tolerated your rudeness longer than I thought possible! Now I must insist - "

Mr. Aloysius Stanley might be
stout but he was dignified. He pulled out his spectacles, polished them on a pocket handkerchief, perched them on his nose, and subjected the henchman to a comprehensive scrutiny. Muttering something in English about 'damned silly Frogs', he finally turned to Elise and Yvette with a truly charming smile and asked for tea, cakes and cold beef in atrociously accented French. "And if I may have one of Mademoiselle's blooms for a boutonniere, so much the better!" he said.

Benoit's face was a brief study in astonishment.
He masked the expression and motioned his man to sit down again.

"
Certainly, Mr. Stanley," Elise said in English. "Please be seated. Will Madame be down shortly?"

"
Shortly," Stanley said. "I left her and her maid performing a task of - ah - some delicacy." He turned back in time to see Yvette returning with the choicest of her flowers. "Ah, my boutonniere!" he said. "Thank you, my dear Mam'selle!"

"
I would be happy to have one, too," said a quiet voice from the doorway.

Malet was standing there, framed by the heavy, carved lintel.
He was smiling on the people in the common-room. His gloves were in his hand, his hat was tucked in the crook of his arm, and his coat sat negligently on his shoulders like a mantle.

He bowed to Elise and Yvette, inclined his head to Mr. Stanley and the rest of the customers, and came into the room, walking with the negligent grace of a tiger.
The gold hilt of his sword caught the light and scattered it. He passed Dracquet's men without a glance, his coat brushing past Benoit's knee. He stopped at a table just beyond Elise and Yvette, swung the coat from his shoulders and set it over the back of one of the chairs. He placed his gloves, walking stick and hat on the table beside him, and disposed himself with an elegant ease that made the sturdy, utilitarian chair seem like a carved throne.

Elise hid a smile.
It had been a magnificent entrance, a credit, had she known it, to Albertine Malet of the Opera, who had bequeathed to her son that predatory walk.

Yvette finished setting the flower in Mr. Stanley's buttonhole.
She selected another and went over to Malet to put it in place and favor him with a graceful curtsey afterward: she, too, could act.

"
Thank you," said Malet with a warm smile. "And now, Mlle. Yvette, if you'd oblige me with some coffee and a bite of one of your excellent breakfasts, I will be quite content."

"R
ight away, M'sieur l'Inspecteur!" Yvette said with another curtsey.

Benoit's eyes narrowed and he looked Malet up and down, taking in the cut and quality of his clothing as well as his bearing.
He hesitated a moment before he finally leaned forward to tap one of the other men on the sleeve and nod toward Malet.