Other Tales: Stories from The Ballad of Gregoire Darcy

by Marsha Altman

  “I would have to say – I agree with his assessment,” he said, entwining their fingers together. Hers were so small and fair compared to his tanned and calloused hands. “And he’s the only man you’ve ever had any affection for?”

  “Well,” she said, “until recently.”

  For a time, there was silence, as they sat together staring into their own hands, uneasy in the atmosphere they had created.

  “Marry me.”

  She opened her beautiful green eyes and said, “No.”

  “I’m serious,” he said, pulling her hand against his chest. “I’m fairly sure I have to marry you now. Not that I don’t wish to.”

  “No, Robert.”

  “I’m obligated. After we just -”

  “I release you from your obligation.”

  He snorted despite it, and kissed her. “I do love you. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  “That’s called infatuation,” she said.

  She was so perfectly serious and so confident that he didn’t doubt her. It would take a strong man to marry Georgiana Bingley. He wondered if this Geoffrey was up to the task. “Then who will the rich and beautiful Miss Bingley marry?”

  “Geoffrey Darcy.” She saw his frown. “You think I’m deluding myself, but I’m not. Look.” She had something around her neck, the locket he had seen in her hands once, but otherwise was normally hidden beneath her clothing somewhere. It was a glass box with two brass points on either end, and she held it like the top was a button. “Robert Audley.” She pressed down on the top, which was indeed a switch, but nothing happened. “Now. Who else? The Marquis de Maret?” She pressed it again with a click. Still nothing. “Geoffrey Darcy.” This time, when she pressed, the thin wire inside the glass began to rotate, lighting the tiny case with an array of colors that circled for a few seconds before going out.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s magic,” she said. “My father bought it in India. He told me that it would only light up when I said the name of one person in the whole world, and only I could make it do that, but the name was a secret I had to discover for myself. I was nine, and I decided to try everyone in the room, as it was Christmas and I had lots of people around. It only worked for one person.” She took the chain off and handed it to Audley’s waiting hand. “Papa didn’t tell me what it meant. I had to figure it out myself. I went to him last year and said, ‘That’s what it means, right? That it will only light up for my one true love?’ And he nodded. He knew all along, the sneaky man.”

  “And you really think it’s magic?” Audley said, inspecting the odd device. There did not seem to be a scientific explanation for it, though certainly, she could know how to trigger it no matter what name she said, or for any reason at all. “I thought you didn’t believe in that nonsense.”

  “I said I don’t believe in people turning into wolves on the full moon. I didn’t say I didn’t believe in any magic at all,” she corrected. “Try it.”

  “Georgiana Bingley,” he said, and pressed down as he had seen her do. There was a click, but nothing else. “Uhm, Andrea Valjeu.” Click. Nothing. “Sophie Murrell.” Nothing. “Camille?” Again, nothing. “Maybe it’s just not working.”

  “It just means you haven’t found her yet,” she said, taking it back from him. “Who’s Andrea Valjeu? An old girlfriend?”

  “Of sorts. She was my first ... girlfriend.” He swallowed. “The kind you pay to be a good friend for a few hours.”

  She giggled as he blushed. “You can say it, you know.”

  “Doesn’t mean I want to divulge my entire history.”

  She was still laughing as she put the locket back against her neck and nuzzled into his shoulder. “So – what irrational belief do you have despite all evidence to the contrary? What do you believe in, Inspector Audley?”

  “Justice. What an utterly foolish piece of nonsense.”

  She was smiling. “Still, very noble of you. More noble than believing in a piece of jewelry that lights up.”

  “It’s not the jewelry, it’s the part about true love.”

  “I know that.”

  But she put her arms around him, and there was no more discussion.

  CHAPTER 12

  The morning became afternoon. Audley watched the sun cross over the trees through the hole in the rock that lit the opposite end of the cave. “Maddox is probably searching everywhere for me. I sent him on an errand with the marquis, but he couldn’t possibly take this long, even if he was trying.”

  “Hardly,” Georgiana said from the mat behind him. “But he is your hired samurai. He would never have left you if I hadn’t asked him to. After all, how else would I have had any time to talk to you? Though, this was not the sort of chat I intended.” She stood up, putting her bonnet back on. “I should probably eventually turn up for lessons.”

  He did not want to leave. He knew – and he knew she knew – that when they left this place, like so many lovers’ havens, the spell would be broken, and could never be restored. Georgiana had stated plainly enough that she would not marry him, so this would go no further.

  “How is your head?”

  “Better.”

  “A shame. If you passed out again, I could keep you here.”

  He smiled. “I do love you.”

  Again she said, “I know.” This time though, her voice wavered. “Thank you.”

  Neither of them could bring themselves to say anything more, as they stepped through the wall of water, and back into the daylight.

  ~~~

  They could not be seen together, so Audley returned to the school alone to retrieve his horse, and hurried back to town. He never knew he could be content and yet exhausted at the same time. The only thing that kept him from being happy, aside from the knowledge that the feeling would fade and they would go their separate ways, was his own body, which was ragged from a combination of exertion and injury. He stumbled into the tavern, nearly crashing into Camille before finding Maddox at his table. “I’m sorry – I need to lie down.”

  “Are you all right? Did something happen?”

  No. Yes. “I’m just overtired. I spoke with Lady Littlefield and Miss Bingley, but it is nothing that cannot wait. And you?”

  “Nothing that cannot wait. Please,” Maddox helped him up to his room, but insisted that he drink and eat something before he was allowed to collapse and finally sleep.

  It was still light when he woke, but the light had moved. Blinking, he rose in confusion to find Brian sleeping on a woven mat in the room, his two swords at his side. He must have been exhausted as well. Audley smiled at the sight of the vulnerable warrior and quietly reached for his rucksack, retrieving his watch. It was – nine. Nine? It was morning. He had slept for over twelve hours. He must have needed it, because his head was no longer ringing. “Some guard,” he muttered, rising to his feet, still wearing the clothing he had collapsed in. “I could sneak up on him and – ”

  No sooner had his foot moved in the direction of Brian Maddox than was a sword drawn, its blade a threatening inch away from his ankle. Maddox was still prostrate on the floor, but certainly capable of doing damage. He looked up at Audley, blinked, and replaced his sword in its scabbard. “Sorry. You shouldn’t wake me like that.”

  “Now I know,” Audley said, a little rattled by the experience. “How did you learn to sleep like that?”

  Maddox sat up. “Years and years of experience from sleeping with one eye open.”

  “How was your visit to the marquis?”

  “Fine. Long. You are fortunate that I am a very interesting speaker,” Maddox said. “And you? What did you learn?”

  “That Miss Bingley knows who the Wolf is. But you already know that, don’t you?”

  Maddox met his stare, but did not answer.

  No sooner were they dressed and downstairs that they were practically assaulted by the barkeep, shoving the daily paper in their hands. This time it was larger, without much more than a headline and an im
age.

  “Two thousand francs for the head of the Wolf,” Audley said. “Offered by the marquis to all comers. Should I be insulted that he’s worth four times what I am?”

  “He’s trying to draw the Wolf out.”

  “Between that and making his escape with his bride, I would say, yes.” Audley folded the flier, put it in his notebook, and thanked Anton. “There is someone who I think should be informed of this. Follow me.”

  Brian bowed. “As always, I am at your service.”

  ~~~

  They reached the DuBois estate in under an hour, riding as fast they could. Maddox was actually a more talented rider, which did not surprise Audley in the least, being a city inspector himself. It seemed their arrival was most unexpected, and the flustered footman took their horses to be watered and let them inside to await his master, who was shooting at a flock of birds in the back woods.

  Sir DuBois entered, still dressed for the outdoors, and his eyes lit up at the sight of his guests. “Inspector Audley! Sir Maddox! How delightful to see you!”

  “Sadly, I turned down my knighthood,” Maddox said. “It will be in the third book. And I would be happy to give you a preview, but there is a more pressing matter and I am only here with the good inspector.”

  “Yes,” Audley said, immediately unfolding the flier and handing it to DuBois. A servant rushed forward with a set of spectacles, and DuBois put them on before reading it carefully, even though there was not much to read below the drawing of a wolf.

  “Interesting,” was all he said.

  “What do you intend to do about it?”

  Both DuBois and Maddox looked at Audley in confusion.

  “Do about it?” DuBois said. “Why would I do anything? While two thousand francs is a great sum even for me, and I am a bit of a huntsman, I am not out to kill a protective spirit of the land.”

  “That is what you believe the Wolf to be? A spirit?”

  DuBois returned the flier, removing his spectacles. “Metaphorically, Inspector Audley. After all, to my knowledge, he has only killed two men known for attacking women, and set rather harmless traps in the woods to protect the innocent natural wolves there.”

  “What about Mrs. Bernard?”

  “Come on, Inspector. It doesn’t take much investigating to realize that the marquis had her killed. She knew all about his abusive habits with his servants. She was killed almost immediately after you appeared and started interviewing the servants, no? You began that first night, the night we played that game in the parlor where I pretended to be dead? How ironically this has all turned out.” His tone was partially serious, partially amused. “If he’s capable of hiring one bandit– the one who was killed by the Wolf – to attack his former maid then he’s capable of hiring another.”

  “So you’ve been following this case?”

  “I have little other serious amusement, out here in the woods, Inspector,” DuBois said. “Not that death is amusing, but a murder investigation is certainly the most interesting thing that has happened here since I acquired this manor. Especially when it is meant to insinuate that the marquis is a werewolf.”

  “But he is not.”

  “No, he is not. And neither is the Wolf, I imagine. That sheet describes a man dressed as a wolf.” He frowned. “Now, what’s all this about? Did you come here to ask me to hunt the Wolf? Because I won’t.”

  “Would you hunt the marquis?”

  DuBois was put-off by the comment. “I only hunt animals, Inspector. Not men – at least, not anymore. I am retired from that awful duty.” His frown deepened. “Do you mean to imply something? Because if you are in such a hurry, you might as well say it.”

  Audley did not back down from the challenge. “To be plain, then. The Wolf has been described as someone my height, and we are about the same height – you and I. You are physically capable, you know the marquis well enough to hate him, and as you said, you are an excellent huntsman. You also have the book with the translation for the Japanese symbol that the Wolf left on a wooden cross at Roux’s death site – the symbol that means ‘wolf.’ It’s in the French edition that you have. And, you are the only person I’ve met with any connection at all to Simon Roux. So, if you are so interested in this case, please draw your own conclusions.”

  “Are you accusing me, Inspector?”

  “I am looking for the Wolf, Sir DuBois. I am trying to save his life.”

  DuBois looked disturbed by the implication, but only said, “Very noble of you, but I must disappoint. I am not the Wolf.”

  “Prove it.”

  “How do I disprove a connection that does not exist?” he said, now nervous. “You come to me with an armed man – whom I respect greatly – and you tell me I am the man who dresses up like a wolf and murders people. If you mean to arrest me, you may do so, but I tell you – I am not the Wolf! I hunted for him, on that day when the woods were full of traps!”

  “But you did not kill any wolves on that hunt. You conveniently and harmlessly fell into a trap.”

  “Why would I fall into my own trap?”

  “In order not to arouse suspicion? To throw me off your trail?”

  “There is no trail!”

  “Inspector,” Brian said, putting a hand on his shoulder from behind. “There is no trail.”

  Audley spun around. “What?”

  “There is no trail here. He is not the Wolf.”

  “You decide to tell me this now? You know who the Wolf is, don’t you?” Audley cried. He didn’t understand why his reactions were so strong and emotional. “Why does everyone know except me? You claim to help me, and yet you keep the most important information from me! You are no help at all!”

  DuBois paled. “Inspector, I am most sorry, but as I said, I am not the Wolf. Yes, the facts do seem to match up. You may search my whole house if you wish, but it would be a waste of your time.”

  Audley growled and turned his attention to Maddox, who merely answered calmly, “Georgiana only told me who the Wolf isn’t.”

  “Who’s Georgiana?” DuBois interrupted.

  “Miss Bingley,” Audley said, not moving his gaze from his samurai protector. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “You didn’t tell me you were coming here to accuse DuBois of being the Wolf!”

  Audley swallowed. This much was true. But if DuBois was not the Wolf, that left ... no one. No one on his lists, anyway. His lists were wrong. He was useless – a terrible inspector. “Sir DuBois,” he said with a grave bow. “I apologize for interrupting your day with these foolish accusations. It seems I led myself astray.”

  To his surprise, DuBois returned the bow courteously. “I am not offended. I suppose I should be, but to be honest, I’m sort of honored that you would think me to be a person I hold in deep respect. When you do find him, Inspector, please ask him if we can be introduced.”

  This did not completely relieve Audley of his embarrassment, but it helped. He made a quick (but polite) escape and they were barely outside before he said, “Maddox, if you were not so heavily armed, I would throttle you.”

  “You could have told me what you were doing.”

  “Before I made a fool of myself, yes.” He put his hand over his eyes. “Oh God, I’ve ruined this whole investigation.”

  “It has not ended yet, Inspector.”

  “Is that what you really think? Be honest with me, for once.”

  Brian put his hands in his robe and said, “We are merely spectators to a larger fight, between the Wolf and the marquis. Eventually, one of them will kill the other, and all will be revealed.”

  “Japaner mysticism?”

  “No. Common sense.”

  Audley did not want to argue with that. He was too busy being furious with himself. They saddled their horses and raced back to town. There was business to be done.

  ~~~

  Audley did have one person left on his list – one person he’d never spoken to. Returning to the town square, he asked for direc
tions to the home of Monsieur Gerard. The man lived not far from the center of town, not a surprise considering his industry. It was a small wooden house, and Audley stepped onto the porch and knocked loudly on the door. Inside, he heard movement, and eventually, the door opened. A bearded man with spectacles said, “Please, sir, I am very busy at the moment.”

  “So am I,” Audley said. “I am Inspector Audley, and I have some questions for you about your paper this morning.”

  “Oh,” Gerard said, clearly terrified of both the imposing figure of a Parisian inspector, and the heavily-armed swordsman in robes standing a step behind him. “Uhm, do come in. Excuse me if I work while you talk.”

  “You are still printing?”

  “I have another flier that must go up immediately.”

  They stepped in as he beckoned them. It was a two-room home, and the main room had been almost entirely overtaken by his large press. There was paper everywhere – in stacks, scattered about, near the press, in the press, stuffed in the bookshelf. Gerard immediately returned to his press. “So, please, Inspector, ask your questions.”

  He had no time for the simple ones. “I assume you printed this morning’s paper on the behest of the marquis.”

  “Yes.”

  “And he paid you for it?”

  “Twenty francs, yes. Is that illegal?” he asked, his voice reaching a higher, nervous pitch. Gerard seemed, despite his very political and dangerous profession as a gossip reporter, an extremely high-strung man.

  “No. I am merely asking. Does he often pay you for such announcements?”

  “Not often, no. This is the largest commission he ever gave me.”

  “And you are still working on it.”

  “Non. I have something that just came in. I am still setting it. Here, I still have the original.” Gerard pulled from his desk a hand-written note that was set up for the purposes of being printed properly as a late edition of the news.

  The Marquis Is a Murderer!

  My Lord,

  I have your friends.

  Meet me at midnight to reclaim them.

  You know where.

  The Wolf

  “His friends?” Maddox said, alarmed.

  “Monsieur Gerard,” Audley said, trying to hide his own rising alarm. “This is a ransom note, not a news report. You cannot print this.”