Maddening Minx

by Pearl Darling

  Celine reached up and knocked solidly on the door. The same butler opened the door to them, half closing it as he saw who it was. Celine stuck out a foot and caught the large door before it closed.

  “We want to see him, please.” Celine’s voice contained a chill that caused Edward to shiver.

  “You upset him greatly last time you came.” The butler pushed on the door.

  “And we are probably going to upset him again,” Celine said quietly. “But your master needs to know the information that we bring.”

  “That you bring.” Edward was keen to distance himself.

  “That I bring,” Celine repeated firmly. She cast Edward a disappointed glance.

  The butler paused, seeming to consult an inner voice, before opening the door. “He’s in the inner room and won’t come out. He hasn’t been out for days. He’s not the lordship that I know.” The butler’s voice was plaintive and distressed.

  Celine put a shoulder to the door and pushed. The butler stood back to let them in. “Bring us some tea, please.”

  The butler nodded.

  “I don’t really want to go in there again.” Edward caught at Celine’s sleeve. “What is so important that the Melinno Society want to bother an old man?”

  “I’m not that old.”

  Edward gulped as the door to the inner room under the stairs swung open.

  “Come in. Don’t stand around all day. Fashman has just got it into his head that I’m about to die that’s all.” The click of a cane and footsteps disappeared into the room.

  Celine shot him a quick look and then took his arm. “What were you saying about protecting him from me?”

  Edward sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The light was brighter this time inside the room, even though the shutters were still closed. Yet more candles burned.

  But it wasn’t a cheerful atmosphere. It had more the air of a funerary procession into a church, the smell of hot wax burning heavy on the senses. To Edward’s relief the music box wasn’t playing its mournful tune in the corner.

  “Well?” Lord Granwich collapsed into his habitual corner on the sofa. “What is so important that you disturb me again? Seeing you turn up like bad pennies is like Henry after he killed his father’s murderer. Wouldn’t stop hammering on my door.”

  Edward glanced over at Celine as she took in an audible intake of breath. But his attention was caught again by Lord Granwich who fixed him with a beady stare.

  “Your mission is finished. You no longer need to see me. After all, you weren’t the one to find out the information we needed.” Lord Granwich gave a dismissive flick of his fingers.

  Edward drew back. “I did all I could—”

  “That’s what we all say when it goes wrong.” Lord Granwich rested his head back on the sofa.

  Edward glanced at Celine.

  She stared at him in an air of shock. “You were the one the War Office asked to find out what was in the note?”

  Edward nodded. “Why else did you think I became his accountant?”

  Celine closed her open mouth and turned to Lord Granwich. “I have some more information for you.” Celine’s voice was quiet, but cut through the air like a knife.

  “Go on then, gel. Tell me what it is.”

  “I believe your son was called Major Coxon-Williams.”

  Lord Granwich’s only show of emotion was a whiteness around his knuckles as he gripped the edge of the sofa hard. “Major Coxon-Williams?”

  Celine nodded. “I believe you knew of him.”

  “I’ve heard of him.” Lord Granwich’s bony form grew a little smaller. “He was one of our best fighters.”

  Celine quirked an eyebrow at Edward that seemed to say ‘something that you will never be’. Edward looked away at the picture of Granwich’s lost love above the doorway.

  Lord Granwich choked. “I sent him into his last battle.”

  Celine sat down quietly at Lord Granwich’s side. “I know,” she said quietly. She took his hand in her hers and smoothed out the tension in his fingers. “Lord Guthrie told me.”

  “His father never forgave me.” Lord Granwich continued as if he hadn’t heard, lost in a moment years ago. “He said that the Major was the only good thing in his life, but the Major was the only man we had left with the guts to assault Bisbal. I had to do it. I did all I could.”

  That’s what we say when it all goes wrong. Edward continued to look at the picture above the doorway. The moment was excruciating. At some point Lord Granwich was going to realize what he had just said. His eyes moved across every piece of the portrait, the hair, so like Celine’s, the blue dress, the ring of sapphires peeking out from underneath the large bunch of flowers.

  “My god.” Lord Granwich’s voice was anguished. “He wasn’t the major’s father was he? I was!”

  Edward pulled his head down into his shoulders and turned around. Lord Granwich stared straight ahead into the distance in the direction of the music box. Celine clung on to his hand which had visibly gripped hers.

  “I knew him, from when he was sixteen. He came with his…father to London. I was introduced to him at one of the clubs, Whites I think it was. Dear god, I liked the boy! I gave him shooting lessons at Manton’s. He was fascinated with guns, all different types of pistols. He was a natural shot.”

  “And when he grew up?”

  “He came to me with money to enlist. He said his father had forbidden him, but that he had the money and he was the age of majority to do so. He was a natural!”

  Edward folded his arms. “Celine, you should go.” She had to stop asking questions, she was merely distressing Lord Granwich.

  “I need more—”

  “You both must go.” Lord Granwich turned to Edward. “I need to come to terms with the fact that I had a son that I knew, but never knew. That I sent him into battle and now he’s dead. And he never knew I was his father.”

  As Celine opened her mouth to speak again, Edward put out a hand and hauled her up from the sofa. Even a crackpot such as he could see that the lord needed to be alone.

  “That’s just it,” she said as Edward pressed a hand to her back and propelled her to the door. “He might not be dead.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Edward’s hand was hot on her back as he paused in pushing her out of the door. Celine closed her eyes for an instant. My business with Mr. Khaffar is done. What a fool she had been to think that Edward was going to make her his next project. It was well known fact that once a spy, always a spy.

  “He might not be dead?” Lord Granwich’s voice was a hoarse whisper behind her.

  Celine straightened her shoulders. “Might.” She turned, batting away Edward’s hand, the fleeting warmth against her fingers a tantalizing promise of comfort that she couldn’t have. “I have some information.”

  “That’s what you said the first time round.” Lord Granwich’s voice grew stronger. “It’s just like the Melinno Society to play games, interfere in things they have no business being in. I thought that their strength had vanished years ago though.”

  Celine smoothed down the wrinkles that had appeared on her dress. “I found a message that was sent to Lord Guthrie by Major Coxon-Williams.”

  Lord Granwich remained silent. Celine could feel the warmth of Edward behind her. He didn’t move. She pulled the now torn note from her dress. “The Major sent it via his sergeant, Fairleigh.”

  “Fairleigh.” Lord Granwich got to his feet with a groan. “Fairleigh, I know that name.”

  “According to Lord Anglethorpe, he was a customs man that was murdered in 1806 down in Brambridge.” Celine licked her lips as Edward moved sharply behind her.

  “Edgar Stanton!” Lord Granwich ran a hand through his hair. “Edgar Stanton killed him. I put Anglethorpe in charge of that one, it was his family’s patch of the woods.” He clenched his fingers in a fist. “God, if only James Stanton hadn’t killed Edgar I could hav
e found out what happened to Hyder.”

  “Hyder?”

  “Major Coxon-Williams, that was his name, Hyder. His mother,” Lord Anglethorpe choked. “His mother loved all things Indian and mystical.”

  “The elephants in the music box.”

  Lord Granwich nodded slowly. “Lydia loved to watch them go round and round.” His face grew harder. “Why does the Melinno Society need to know all of this?” His eyes narrowed. “Where did you find the note? I want to see it.”

  Slowly Celine pulled the now mangled note from her pocket. Carefully she placed the pieces in Lord Granwich’s outstretched hand. “My sources are secret.”

  Lord Granwich gave a sarcastic laugh. “Of course they are.” His hands shook as he fit the two halves of the note together. “English muskets…this can’t be right. They didn’t find any peasants with English muskets on the battlefield when they went out to recover the bodies.”

  “And neither did they recover the bodies of Fairleigh or Coxon-Williams,” Celine pointed out.

  “English muskets…” Lord Granwich continued to study the note. “We didn’t authorize the arming of Spanish peasants around Bisbal.”

  “Could they have been stolen?” Edward had been quiet so long that his deep voice caused Celine to jump.

  Lord Granwich shook his head. “The Spanish weren’t interested in our muskets. They had their own guns.”

  “They didn’t take any off the battlefield as spoils of war?”

  “I’ve told you already, they weren’t interested in our muskets. Had too many of their own.” Lord Granwich shook his head. “We definitely didn’t sell any muskets to the Spanish.”

  “Does the War Office own the armory that would have sold the muskets?” Edward continued hard and fast with his questioning.

  Celine looked from one man to the other. Why weren’t they focusing on the fact that the Major, Hyder, might still be alive?

  “No.” Lord Granwich rubbed his crabbed hands together. “But they have the Royal Warrant. We are their main clients of course so they keep us apprised with most of their dealings.”

  Edward nodded.

  Celine rose to her feet, clenching her hands. “Haven’t you heard what I said? Your son might still be alive!”

  Lord Granwich frowned up at her. “On balance of probability that is almost certainly not true.”

  “You said ‘I did everything I could’. And yet you are doing nothing to find your son?” Celine paced across the carpet as Lord Granwich narrowed his eyes.

  “I say it again, Celine, what is Melinno’s interest in my affair?”

  Celine drew in a breath. “It’s not their interest. It’s mine.”

  Edward plucked at her hand, but she shook him away.

  Lord Granwich cocked a head on one side. “Yours?” He laughed. “A courtesan, concerned for me, an old man.” His face grew serious again. “I don’t buy it.”

  A dead weight hung against Celine’s chest, pulling at her throat. If I had a father, I’d want to know that he was doing everything he could to look for me. To rescue me from…this.

  She schooled her features and tossed her hair back from her shoulders. With a flicker of eyelid she winked. “Old men have certain uses for me.”

  “Bloody hell!” Beside her Edward exploded. “We are leaving.”

  Celine let Edward take her hand and pull her through the door. In the hall she straightened her shoulders as the butler, Fashman, pushed past her and into the inner room.

  “What in the hell were you—?” Edward shook, before throwing his hands in the air. He turned and pushed the inner room door shut, and then paused, drawing in a breath, suddenly quiet.

  Celine frowned. “What is it?”

  Edward shook his head. “Nothing.”

  Nothing again.

  Edward’s form straightened until he looked stiffer than a book binding. “We are leaving.”

  Outside, two carriages stood jammed together. The sounds of raised voices carried to where they stood.

  “You can’t just park here and not say who you are waiting for!”

  “Why not? You haven’t told me who you are waiting for.”

  “I’m waiting for Mr. Fiske that’s who.”

  “Mr. Fishke. The buttoned up businessman.”

  “I think he would take that as a compliment.”

  “It wasn’t meant ashh a compliment.”

  “Most observations aren’t.”

  Celine walked slowly down the steps. The slight slur in Gunvald’s voice gave away the amount of pints he had drunk in the Cheshire Cheese. The fact that there was a slur at all in his voice indicated that he had managed at least seven pints. Gunvald was a hard drinking Swede.

  “I believe your transport may be compromised,” Edward remarked drily. “Perhaps I can offer you a ride in my carriage?”

  Celine blinked and looked up at Edward. He drew out his pocket watch and flicked open the lid in one precise motion.

  “Goodness, look at the time. I’m late to the Old Bailey. Perhaps you can make your own way home.”

  Before her eyes Edward shrunk, a little bit here and there, his elbows tucked in, his shoulders hunched and his features grew pinched.

  “If that is all, I had better retrieve Alasdair.”

  Open mouthed, Celine watched as Edward strutted down the steps and out towards the carriages. His voice joined the fray, a nasal twang powering his words across the chilly wind.

  “Alasdair, my carriage please. We are going to the Old Bailey.”

  “Mr. Fishke!” Celine could see the tall figure of Gunvald swaying on top of her carriage.

  “Yes, Gunvald?”

  “Mr. Ericcshoon to you, sir!”

  “Yes, Mr. Ericcshoon?”

  “’s not Ericcshoon, it’s Ericcshon.”

  “I believe the Swedish surname is commonly ‘Ericcsson’?”

  “Shwat I said.”

  Edward’s irritation was palpable. “What do you have to say?”

  “Ssshhhees a nice lady.”

  “I most certainly agree.”

  “I hope you’ve been looking after her.”

  “She can mostly look after herself.”

  “I agree.”

  “Then the matter is a moot point. Alasdair, my carriage please.”

  “Yooos not really seeing what I’m saying, Mr. Fiske.” Gunvald gestured with his hand.

  Edward paused in climbing into his carriage. He gave Celine a long look, before turning back.

  “She’s one in a million,” Gunvald called.

  Celine watched as Edward paused again, but this time he didn’t turn. He disappeared into the dark depths of his carriage. Soon Alasdair had swung himself on top of the coachman’s seat. He gave Celine an embarrassed nod and set the horses in motion.

  “Ah, Sheline!”

  Celine sighed and walked slowly towards her own carriage. Gunvald started singing a song in his native Swedish, the only word of which she understood was her name.

  “Thank you, Gunvald. You may take me ho—back.” Home. Would she have ever said that before? She’d never thought to question it. Yet Pithadora had pushed her. Where else did she have to go?

  What had Angelique done that Pithadora had pushed her out too? It was obviously something to do with the note, or was it to do with the death of Pithadora’s lover? Celine shivered. Pithadora’s ex-lover had killed Lord Anglethorpe’s father. If she approached Pithadora, then she would likely push her, Celine, out too without warning.

  Celine winced and clutched at the bite on her ankle that burned as the carriage jolted and swayed as Gunvald set the horses in motion outside. No matter how drunk Gunvald became, no matter how much he slurred his words, his physical actions never faltered. He blamed it on the alcohol in the beer, saying that the same amount of schnapps would never allow him to slur his words.

  Celine had never wanted to find out.

  The empty churc
h was full of banging and hammering as the coach pulled through the large doorway to the Melinno headquarters. Silver shut the great church door behind them.

  “Pithadora’s been looking for you,” she shouted above the hammering as Celine jumped down from the carriage. “She—” Silver paused before raising her voice even further. “Roland, would you stop for one second please!”

  The hammering stopped instantly. A whistling started instead.

  “She wants—Roland, come here!”

  “I can’t.” Roland’s voice echoed strangely.

  “Why not?” Silver huffed as if she had had this conversation many times before.

  “Because I am currently holding together two pieces of pipe with one hand.”

  “For goodness’ sake, just stop doing whatever it is that you are doing and don’t whistle!”

  Celine smiled. Home. This was what a home was, a family of people that pushed and pulled and talked and laughed.

  “Celine.” She shuddered as Pithadora’s voice unfolded across the stone of the church. The warmth she had just felt ebbed away as swiftly as it had come. Pithadora’s shadow flashed briefly at the door to the vicarage, the long stalk like feathers on her hat giving her the air of a miniature peacock on display. “I will see you in the library in five minutes. Don’t be late.”

  “She’s very angry,” Silver said nervously. “She wouldn’t look at me.”

  “She never looks at me anyway.” Roland’s cheerful voice echoed eerily around the wheels of the many coaches. “She likes to pretend I don’t exist.”

  “And me.” Gunvald jumped down from the coach.

  “I must admit that she doesn’t look at me very often when she gives me orders,” Silver admitted. “It was just rather strange to be shouted at whilst not being looked at if you know what I mean.”

  “What did she shout at you about?” Celine stretched.

  “She told me it wasn’t natural to dress like a man.”

  “It certainly isn’t usual, but as to natural—”

  “Your two minutes are nearly up, Celine.” Gunvald’s voice was quiet compared to his loud singing before.