Other Tales: Stories from The Ballad of Gregoire Darcy

by Marsha Altman

  “But I was paid! Fifty francs, to be precise. My largest commission ever.”

  “By whom?”

  “I don’t know.” Gerard backed into his press as Audley stepped forward menacingly. “For God’s sake, I don’t know! He left the note under my door with the money and instructions but an hour ago! I didn’t want to question it! The Wolf is a murderer – he would kill me!”

  “Why should I believe you? Why should I not have you locked up?”

  “You may lock me up, but it will do no good! I don’t know who left the note!”

  Audley had no patience left, but he could not sense that this man was lying. “What were the instructions?”

  “Print as many copies as fifty francs would afford and distribute them around town before sundown!”

  “Don’t you think that’s odd? If he’s writing a note to the marquis, why doesn’t he just deliver it? Must he make his ransom so public?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe it’s not the Wolf,” Maddox interjected suddenly and calmly. “Maybe it’s the marquis, trying to draw the Wolf out. He doesn’t know who he is or he would have killed him already. The Wolf has to be wondering the same thing we are wondering – who has been captured. The Wolf is a protector – he will answer this call. The names are just reversed.”

  It made perfect sense. “And who are the friends of the Wolf?” He paused, and bowed to Monsieur Gerard. “Excuse us, but we must be off.”

  “May I print? I do not want to upset either one of them.”

  “Yes, you may print,” Audley said. “The damage has already been done.”

  They had stepped out on the porch and shut the door before Audley said, “Georgiana.”

  “And Lady Littlefield. What’s her name?”

  “Heather.”

  “Who else has the Wolf protected?”

  “Sophie, but she is too far from here for the marquis to catch her,” Audley said. “We must go to the school immediately.”

  Maddox did not have to be told twice. They rode harder than they had before, arriving at the school in a matter of minutes. Audley pushed past the woman at the door, and headed straight for the headmaster’s office, finding him sitting at his desk, quietly reading his papers as he smoked a pipe. “Where are Miss Bingley and Lady Littlefield?”

  “Sir, you have no authority – ”

  “I have every authority!” Audley shouted, and he didn’t care that he did. He would draw a pistol on this man if he had to. “While you are on French soil you will listen to my every command. Now, where are they?”

  The headmaster hesitated – visibly. “Lady Littlefield is in her lessons. Miss Bingley is – under the weather and is resting in her dormitory.”

  “Then I must see her. At once.”

  “Absolutely not. I cannot allow – ”

  Before Brian could react, Audley drew his pistol and held it to the headmaster’s head. “Where is Georgiana Bingley?”

  Headmaster Stafford swallowed, trying to maintain some mediocre amount of English dignity as he said, “W – We don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” Now Brian was shouting, his hands on his swords.

  “That girl is a madwoman! She comes and goes as she pleases! She gets into fights at the tavern in town! The only reason we put up with it is because - ...” He would have trailed off, but the sound of Audley cocking the pistol was enough to get him started again. “ – because she would have this place shut down, after the Roux incident. Do you know how powerful her family is?”

  “I am her family,” Brian said. “So yes, I am very aware. How long has she been gone?”

  “Two – maybe three days.”

  Internally, Audley felt a shiver. Georgiana had promised to return to school after he left her yesterday. She hadn’t. Which mean she had now been missing for almost a day. “I must see Lady Littlefield. Have her brought to me in their dormitory chambers.”

  “Sir – ”

  “NOW.”

  The headmaster scurried out, yelling at the servants as he went, leaving the two men alone in his office. Audley put his pistol back in his belt and turned to Brian Maddox, only to find him bowing, his head touching the floor.

  “Audley-Keibu,” he begged formally. “Please release me from my obligation to protect you so that I may search for my niece.”

  “Released,” Audley said. “Find her, Mr. Maddox.” He hesitated for only a moment before deciding to stammer, “She has a secret place near a waterfall. Follow the streams in the forest until you find it and call out for her.”

  “I will.” Brian wasted no more time and ran out the door.

  The headmaster returned, shaking visibly. “Inspector, Mrs. Stafford is the Head of the dormitories, and she will show you to the living quarters of Miss Bingley. Lady Littlefield is being pulled from her lesson at this moment. Are you satisfied?”

  “I will be,” was Audley’s cold warning as he was led deeper into the school than he had ever been, by a stern-looking woman all in black. She spoke nothing to him, trying to maintain her own dignity, but he could see she was scared – possibly because a gun had moments ago been aimed at her husband’s head. They passed classrooms and a dining hall before arriving in the wing of living quarters.

  “Normally men are not allowed in here,” she said as she unlocked one of the doors.

  “I understand. And I don’t care.” Audley stepped into a room with two beds at opposite ends. “Please bring Lady Littlefield to me, here.”

  She bowed with forced compliance and left him. Now alone, he relaxed only slightly with a heavy sigh, and looked at both sides of the room. It was not hard to figure out to whom each side belonged. One side was appropriately decorated, he supposed, with a beautiful watercolor of flowers framed on the wall and a jewelry case on the dresser. The other side had some inked drawing of a type of building he had never seen before. Taking a closer look at it, he noticed that it had originally been drawn with a charcoal pencil and then inked and colored later. The building was domed, with pillars on each side and a long blue-colored rectangle in front of it that he assumed was a pool or a lake of some kind. He peered even closer to see the label – “The Taj Mahal. Agra, India. Charles Bingley, 1817.”

  It was beautiful and bizarre, but he did not have time to give it full appreciation. He slumped onto Georgiana’s bed, happy for the rest of a moment but still overly nervous about the situation. She could easily be off doing something for the Wolf – but he suspected otherwise. The marquis was trying to end the story, so-to-speak, and she would have to be a part of it. He looked down at his feet, peering beneath the bed at her selection of shoes and slippers.

  There was something to the side that didn’t match. He reached down, grabbing the soft foot straps of two sandals unlike anything he had ever seen. They were on wooden stilts, reinforced by metal along the bottom. They had clearly been used well, because they were caked in dirt.

  Wooden sandals.

  He abandoned all pretenses of not invading her privacy and began going through her dresser. Clothing, notes from schoolwork – a diary. He opened it.

  All Japanese – kanji. She knew how to write in Japanese.

  He started pulling open drawers and tossing the contents on the bed. Nothing but the things for being a woman here – cloth, ribbons, sewing equipment, bonnets carelessly squished between books – and she had books. She had books in languages he didn’t recognize. At last, he saw something unusual, and desperately unlatched a small wooden case, revealing an item wrapped in red silk. Unwrapped, he found a bullet – a rifle bullet. Made of silver.

  “Inspector Audley?”

  From the look of terror on her face, he must have looked like a wild man as he turned to Lady Littlefield while still holding up a rifle bullet. “Where did this come from?”

  She curtseyed, and he remembered his manners and bowed. She regained her composure quickly, and was able to answer. “From Georgiana’s dresser, I imagine.”

&nbs
p; “Do you know what it is?”

  Lady Littlefield shut the door behind her. “She said she was shot with it. She considers it a good luck charm.”

  “It’s silver.”

  “I suppose. I don’t know what bullets are supposed to be made of, Inspector Audley.”

  “Lead. Silver bullets are made for hunting werewolves,” he said. After a pause he continued, “She’s the Wolf, and she’s been the Wolf before, hasn’t she? It must have been back in England.” Thinking out loud, it became clearer. “Of course, when I sent a letter to her uncle about how I was investigating a case of a killer who dressed as a wolf, and my location was so close to her school, he made the obvious conclusion. Why else would the famous Brian Maddox come to the middle of nowhere at top speed?” He played with the bullet, rolling it between his fingers. “He knew all along. He knew when he got the letter. Why didn’t I see it?”

  “Because a woman couldn’t be the Wolf.”

  Georgiana blended into the background. Just like she did as Lady Littlefield’s companion with the marquis. It was perfect. They were all looking for a man – who else would attack men – and win? “But she’s so small.”

  Lady Littlefield said nothing, hiding her eyes.

  “She’s too short. The Wolf is my height. But if she was wearing -” He picked up he wooden sandals. “If she was wearing these shoes – she would be about my height, wouldn’t she?”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “You’ve seen her in them, though?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are they her only pair?”

  “I don’t know, Inspector.”

  Why didn’t he see it? He called the Wolf a man, and she didn’t correct him. She was the only other person with a solid connection to Simon Roux –

  “Lady Littlefield,” Audley said, rushing across the room to her. “What happened between her and Simon Roux?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”

  “What did she tell you happened?”

  Littlefield sat down on her own bed, setting aside her books. “She said that Simon Roux came upon two of the girls, Sarah and Anna - Miss Ashley and Miss Stevenson. He was riding a horse, had a rifle and a pistol, and he made some lewd comments, and then threatened them both. I don’t know what they said.” She played with her hands. “Georgiana follows the others when they go into town. It’s dangerous, after all, but girls sneak out anyway, so sometimes she trails behind. That time, she did, and she appeared and told him to leave. Then she hit his horse with a rock.”

  “So she told me. Is there more to the story?”

  “Again, I wasn’t present, so I don’t truly know, but ...” She kept looking away, refusing to meet his eyes. “Sarah told me that the horse didn’t run, it just stopped charging, and while Mr. Roux was distracted, Georgiana leapt over the horse and tackled him, drawing his own knife, and telling him that if he ever came near one of the girls again, she would slit his throat.”

  This part Georgiana had left out of her own telling, of course – because Simon Roux had gotten his throat slit sometime later. “What about the night he died?”

  “She came back very late. Sometimes I don’t hear her – I just wake up in the morning and she’s there. But that night, I did. Her gown was filthy. I told her to call for water, and she shouted at me –then she apologized. She was shaking.”

  “Was she armed?”

  “No, Inspector.”

  “Was she injured?”

  “No, but there was blood on her face. Not all over – she had tried to wash it off. There were just traces of it.”

  His heart was racing. “And you thought nothing of this?”

  “When I heard he was dead, I knew. There are things she hides from me and things she doesn’t. She told me it was in self-defense. She was coming home from wherever she goes, and he came upon her. He was drunk and angry about something, and he remembered her quite well.”

  “But she did not kill him with the sort of weapon one carries for self-defense.”

  “She has all kinds of strange weapons. She doesn’t keep them here – she had a trunk of them, but she took it somewhere.”

  The trunk. “Was it red?”

  “Was what red?”

  “The trunk. Deep red. Almost brown.”

  “Yes.”

  He fumed. He had been there – within a foot of the murder weapons – and he had not known it. He told her he needed evidence, but she had it all, locked away in that trunk. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “I am sorry, Inspector Audley,” she said, and sounded as if she was. “I – had no idea how far this would go. Nor did Georgiana, as she told me a few days ago. She’s bullied the marquis, spread rumors about him, fought him, threatened him in person – as the Wolf – and still he will not break the engagement. She has no idea what else to do.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Two days ago.”

  He paced, angry – at himself. Angry for not seeing it. Angry for letting his emotions blind him. She had been right – he had stopped searching for the Wolf when he started chasing Georgiana. He just didn’t know they were one in the same – and he probably didn’t want to know. How could he love his main suspect? A woman – a tiny girl – who had apparently killed two men and threatened another? He remembered holding her hand in his – how small and gentle it was. Even now –

  “She does like you.”

  You have no idea. “I hope so.” He shook his head to refocus. “Lady Littlefield, I have to find her. The marquis has put a price on the Wolf’s head.”

  She gasped.

  “Someone paid the local newspaper man to print a note to the marquis from the Wolf, saying the Wolf was holding his friends hostage. Why would she do that?”

  “It doesn’t sound like her. Do you have a copy?”

  He handed her the original.

  “This isn’t her handwriting!” she said. “This is the marquis’s!”

  “I thought it might be,” he said. “He’s doing everything he can to draw her out. I don’t know where he intends to meet her, but I have to find out. Her uncle is looking for her, but that might not be enough.”

  “Let me go with you,” she said, rising and grasping him with a gloved hand. “I’m the cause of all this.”

  “To some extent, yes,” Audley said, “but everyone did their part to bring it this far. I cannot allow it to further.”

  Any further protest by Lady Littlefield was prevented by the sudden entrance of Mrs. Stafford. “Lady Littlefield, the marquis has sent his carriage for you. He says it is a matter of great urgency.” She gave a stern look to Audley.

  “I’ll escort her,” he said quickly. “I’m on my way out anyway.”

  Maybe she was just happy for him to be gone, but Mrs. Stafford did not interfere as Lady Littlefield put on her bonnet, and walked with him back through the hallways at a fairly brisk pace.

  Outside, there was a carriage waiting. Durand was there. “My Lady, your carriage awaits.” He bowed, and the footmen surrounded them. Audley turned around, and noticed the front doors of the school were closed. “And yours, Inspector.” The sharp end of a gun pressed sharply between his shoulder blades. “Raise your hands.”

  “I’m an officer of the law,” Audley said as they disarmed him. “This is a hanging crime, Monsieur Durand.”

  “So is murder, Inspector Audley. And if you will only be patient and play along, the marquis will be good enough to deliver you the head of the Wolf. A good trade, wouldn’t you agree?”

  So. He and Lady Littlefield were the ‘friends’ – not of the marquis, but of the Wolf. He intended to use them against her – by any means necessary.

  CHAPTER 13

  Robert Audley and Heather Littlefield sat across from each other at a wooden table in the woods, surrounded by guards that could only be some of the bandits. Each of them had their hands tied in front of them, and they sat waiting nervously as Monsieur Durand appeared and
began to set the table, complete with candelabra. “Your host shall be along shortly.”

  “You know this is ridiculous,” Audley said, “and highly illegal.”

  “The marquis is aware of these facts, yes.”

  “If you release us both, I might even be tempted to not press charges on any of the people currently present.”

  “I’m sorry, Monsieur Inspector, but that is not our concern.”

  Audley sighed and looked at Lady Littlefield as Durand disappeared. She had stopped crying, but she was shivering as the sky darkened and the air cooled. “Someone untie me so I can give her my coat.”

  There was no response.

  “Lady Littlefield, I’m sorry,” he whispered across the table.

  “Are they going to kill us?”

  “Considering the lengths the marquis is going through to protect his marriage to you, I would say, definitely not,” Audley said. That of course did not leave him in the equation. If he was a witness to whatever the marquis was enacting, there were certainly no reasons to leave him alive. “I think we are merely spectators.” And hostages. “You have nothing to fear.”

  “He’s going to kill her!”

  “That’s not a certainty.” Especially if she had Brian Maddox by her side. He would no doubt go to any lengths to protect his niece from her own foolishness. “They’ve both been readying for this for a long time now, since the death of Simon Roux. It is out of our hands.”

  “But you’re the inspector! How can you just let a crime go by like this?”

  With a guilty shiver, he shrugged.

  The marquis made his entrance at last, flanked by several of his men. He was dressed perfectly, wearing a red coat, with an exquisite rapier at his side. “I apologize for the inconvenience and my delay. Hello, my darling,” he bent over to kiss her. Lady Littlefield tried to squirm away from him, but he pulled her close to plant a kiss on her cheek. “My blushing bride,” he said, giving Audley a vicious smile. “Inspector Audley.”

  “Bastard,” he said with all the dignity he would use to address a noble, even pretending to doff his imaginary hat.

  “I am attempting the pretense of civility,” the marquis said, taking his seat at the head of their table as plates of food were placed in front of them. “Surely, Inspector, you understand the concept of deceit for a greater purpose?”