by Joan Vincent
The little man jumped nervously. He looked over his shoulder as he scooted into the room. “Mon Dieu, what are you doing here? Monseigneur will see you dead if he learns you have left your post. He was very upset about the discovery of M. Lambert’s body.”
“No he wasn’t. Merely snapped those devilish fingers of his,” Letu sneered.
“Whenever he does that, something bad happens.” Petit saw Letu’s eyes widen at sight of the gold strand in his hand.
The swarthy man tore it from the pudgy hand. “Who’s he want done this time?”
“No one.” Petit took a swipe at the necklace dangling from Letu’s fingers. “It is to be used for payment to the helpful soldat.”
A vicious chuckle bubbled from the lean figure. “I’d think mention of Lambert’s end would keep that one in line.”
“Monseigneur Donatien is not a man to be cheated,” Petit warned. “The necklace must be used as he says.”
“Who’s to tell him?” Letu threatened.
“He will know. There is far worse than M. Lambert’s fate,” Petit cautioned. “Go keep watch as you were told. This eve deliver the necklace.” He watched Letu swagger out of the room.
The fool, he does not realize monseigneur does not permit the mistake. He rubbed a stubby hand across his brow. If the ship would come early—then perhaps kind Mademoiselle Vincouer would be safe.
* * *
Hart Cottage Saturday Afternoon
Miss Benton paused outside the sitting room and patted a grey curl into place. She took a deep breath to steady her fluttering heart and then walked into the salon. At the far end she saw the captain. Maddie, rigid, faced the windows.
“You know I have to do my duty, Miss Vincouer. For God’s sake, I mean your father no harm. Let me speak with him and I will not have to search the house.” Medworth pushed a hand through his hair. “I almost believe the free trader is here since you are acting such a Cheltenham tragedy.”
Pricilla cleared her throat. “Ahh—hem.”
The captain turned.
Maddie started and whirled to face her.
“Captain Medworth, a pleasure as always.” Miss Benton held out a limp hand.
The officer hesitated, then walked to her and took it. “I am sorry to come on such terms, ma’am. But if you could reason with your niece—”
“Madeline’s reason has always been most sound,” she assured him. She went to Maddie and took her arm. “You have had a trying time, my dear. The good captain does but his duty.” Miss Benton led her to a winged back chair and pressed her to sit.
“Thank you, ma’am. I have tried to explain—”
“You know how gentlemen can be, Maddie, dear,” she patted her wide-eyed niece’s shoulder and cautioned Medworth with glance over her shoulder. “I want you to stay here and rest. Corrie will bring tea.”
Maddie, frantic, wondered if her aunt had leapt off sanity’s bridge. “But—”
Aunt Prissy winked. “I shall see to everything.” She faced the captain, her hands clasped. “I have sent word to Mr. Lundin instructing him to provide your men with a refreshing drink. Matthew’s wells are deep and provide the best water.”
Captain Medworth resisted the urge to grind his teeth. “That is unnecessary.”
“Oh, not at all, Captain. We would not want to be thought unfriendly to those in His Majesty’s service.”
He bowed. “His Majesty’s men thank you. But I insist—”
“Of course, Captain Medworth. I do tend to babble on, do I not?” she laughed. “My father always said it was the reason I could not bring a gentleman up to the mark.” She turned to Maddie. “You must remember that, my dear, gentlemen—”
“Miss Benton, I will see Mr. Vincouer. Now,” Medworth demanded, his voice cracked like a shot.
“Why, of course.” Pricilla turned a bemused countenance to him. She hoped her trilling laugh masked her niece’s gasp. She waved a hand behind her back signalling Maddie to remain seated. Swaying forward, she took the captain’s arm. “Just rest here, dear. We shall return shortly.”
Medworth nodded at Maddie. He thrust aside the pinging alarm at her ill-concealed shock, and followed her aunt.
Maddie sat in stunned horror for long seconds after the door closed. She shot out of the chair and made for the door. It swung open as she reached it.
“Lor, miss, you gave me quite a fright,” Corrie said staring with wide eyes at her mistress.
Placing a hand over her racing heart, Maddie gulped in air.
“May I come in, miss? The tray be a mite heavy.”
Maddie stepped back, still speechless over Aunt Prissy’s behaviour.
“Now, do sit down, Miss Maddie,” Corrie urged. “Miss Pricilla did say you had had a shock. Not bad news I hope,” she added setting the tea tray down. “She said I was to insist you drink your tea and wait for her.”
“She did?”
Corrie nodded and poured a cup of tea. “Miss Pricilla said she and that nice young captain would be back as soon as he finished visiting with Mr. Vincouer.” She poured a slip of milk into the tea while Maddie sank into the wing-backed chair.
Handing her mistress the cup and saucer, Corrie wondered aloud, “I can’t recall when your father last had a visitor, miss. Has seemed strange how he hasn’t even wanted to see the young ladies. They’ll be so happy to hear he is that much better when they get back from their picnique.”
Maddie’s hand shook, rattling the teacup against its saucer. “I—please, do not mention it to them.” She floundered beneath Corrie’s gaze. “Father will—will be exhausted. Let me speak with Malcolm. I would hate to disappoint them,” she stammered.
Corrie nodded. “Your mother would be that proud of you, miss. Always taking such care of everyone.” Smiling a blessing, she left the room.
Blinking back sudden tears, Maddie lowered the cup and saucer to her lap. Aunt Prissy has gone mad! Thoughts of her brother and sisters brought her to her feet. Tea sloshed unnoticed on her gown and the carpet. With shaking hands Maddie set the cup and saucer on the tray and paced.
Thank goodness Malcolm has taken the girls out. Maybe we’ll be lucky and—and what? Maddie put a hand to her pounding temple. What should I do? What can I do?
Captain Medworth returned. “Miss Vincouer.”
Maddie turned, steeled for what was to come.
“I am sorry about your father,” Medworth said walking to her. He halted, his concern deepening. “What has happened to your gown?”
“My father?” Maddie questioned.
“I had no idea that his condition was—I mean, you often said it was serious. That he would not see anyone, even the children. I—I understand why now.” He drew a clean handkerchief from his pocket and placed it in her hand. “Do forgive this intrusion.”
Miss Benton floated into the room and to her niece’s side. “Madeline understands.” She took the handkerchief from Maddie’s limp grasp and dabbed at the tea stains. “You will forgive us, however,” she turned back to the captain offering him his handkerchief, “if we do not serve tea.”
Forcing his gaze from Maddie, he agreed. “Of course, Miss Benton. I have caused enough upset.” He glanced back at Maddie before he left. “I will call on you tomorrow afternoon to see how your father fares.”
Maddie took her aunt’s hands and looked into her mischievous eyes. “Whatever did you do? Dare I ask?”
“I was quite surprised myself,” Aunt Prissy answered, then laughed with satisfied delight. “Mr. Broyal amazes. There is a truly wicked sense of humour in that man. I am most pleased with him.” She gave her niece’s hand a squeeze. “You were right when you said we should care for him.” Pricilla gave an enigmatic smile. “He is as barmy as you.”
Pulling free of her aunt, Maddie sat down. “Whatever did he do,” she asked, “that affected Captain Medworth so—so much?”
“Why, my dear, Mr. Broyal did not have to do anything. Not that he wasn’t prepared to,” she added. Seeing her niece’s
puzzled frown, Pricilla’s smile broadened. “You see, my dear—”
Maves tottered into the room. “I am sorry to interrupt, miss, but their coach has just arrived.”
“Calm yourself,” Maddie said. She rose and hurried to the elderly butler. “What is wrong?”
Maves gestured toward the sound of voices in the hallway. A woman complained in a high-pitched loud whine.
Sinking onto the settee, Aunt Prissy looked at Maddie with heartfelt pity. She watched her niece back away from the butler, fresh despair in her eyes.
Ermintrude Vincouer entered the sitting room in a huff. “I do not know why your father lets this aged bag of bones retain a position for which he is unfit,” she bleated. “Never was fit for the position, come to that.”
Her daughter Agatha trailed in behind her with downcast eyes.
“Child, have you no manners,” Ermintrude chastised Maddie. “Do you not have a word of welcome for your family?”
“Now, Mother,” Sanford Vincouer drawled, “give coz Madeline time to catch her breath.” Halting in the doorway, he ran a dismissing eye over Miss Benton and turned his gaze on Maddie.
She took in his tall, thin form and found it more lacking than she remembered. Sanford’s drooping shoulders were a mere rack for his jacket while Broyal’s were broad and well-muscled. His self-assured smirk chilled Maddie’s heart while memories of Mr. Broyal’s lips playing across hers warmed her cheeks.
She scrambled to collect her wits. Until she could speak with Aunt Prissy, she would not know what Broyal had done that had proven so effective with Medworth.
“My pardon, Aunt. It is the surprise of your visit that has left me wordless. Maves,” she ordered the butler, “have Corrie bring more refreshments.” She looked to Sanford, forced a smile. “Shall I have rooms made ready for you?”
“Of course, coz,” he returned with an arch look. “We have been remiss in not visiting sooner. We make an indefinite stay.”
“But the Bennets?” She looked from Sanford to Agatha. At the young woman’s loss of colour, she regretted her question. “It makes no matter,” Maddie hurried on. “I will have rooms made ready at once. You must be tired from your journey.”
Ermintrude Vincouer replied in bitter tones. “Don’t know why we had to travel in such a perfectly horrid coach. Every bone in my body has been rattled.” She turned on her son. “Your father was never such a nip farthing. I remember—”
“Please take a seat,” Maddie took her aunt’s arm and urged her to sit. “If only we had known you were coming, rooms would await you. Aunt Prissy, please give instructions—”
Miss Benton bounced to her feet. “You needn’t say another word, Madeline. Travelling is always so dreadful. I will see to the chambers at once. Those farthest from your father’s, of course. We wouldn’t want Matthew disturbed by comings and goings. Nor anyone dismayed by his present state,” she ended sadly. Pricilla gave Maddie’s back a pat as she passed.
“Present state?” Sanford eyed her. “I thought Uncle Matthew had improved. Did you not write as much?”
“He suffered a—a setback a few days ago,” Maddie managed. “I—he has not been able to receive visitors since then.”
“Really?” Ermintrude studied her niece. “Does a Riding Officer always bring a troop of men when calling on a daughter of the house?”
Sanford studied Maddie through his quizzing glass. “Yes, what was that fellow doing here?”
Angered by her cousin’s arrogant inspection, Maddie lied without hesitation. “Captain Medworth was concerned for our safety. A free trader was wounded nearby a few days ago.”
Agatha put a hand to her breast. “Oh, dear.”
Sanford raised a brow. “But why the troops, coz?”
After considering, Maddie decided the truth would serve. “The captain received a note saying the free trader had taken refuge here. Father disabused him of that notion.”
Sanford lowered his quizzing glass. His gaze became more intense. “Was there any truth to it?”
“What utter nonsense,” his mother scoffed. “Madeline may have little to recommend her, but she is not so hen-witted that she would actually attempt to hide a free trader.” She shook her head. “I will tell this captain so when next he calls.”
“Mother, please,” Agatha pleaded.
“Do be still, gel,” Ermintrude snapped.
Maddie met Sanford’s gaze. “I have no knowledge of the local smuggling other than it exists. I informed Captain Medworth of a tunnel near Limes Point as soon as I learned of it. It had been used by the free traders without Father’s permission.”
“Now that would be a surprise,” Sanford drawled. “Oh, do take that spitfire look from your face, Madeline. Everyone knows the coast of Kent is knee deep in free traders. Do you mean me to believe that the brandy I will be served this evening is not from France?”
“How would I know?” she blustered, then simpered, “Such matters are beyond my powers.”
“Quite right,” Ermintrude agreed. “At last you are realizing your place.”
“Yes,” Sanford continued, “you must miss James’ guidance—even if it was flawed with the ignorance of his lack of years.” A shake of his head warned Maddie to hold her tongue. “I mean to correct that. I shall speak with your father.”
Miss Benton paused in the doorway. “Oh, but you cannot do that. Did Madeline not tell you he has been unable to speak since that dreadful attack? In fact, the captain’s visit has proven too much. Perhaps you can visit with him on the morrow.
“But come, your rooms are ready. I am certain you are anxious to get rid of your travelling dirt.” With a reassuring nod to Maddie, she took Agatha’s arm. “Your luggage has been placed in your rooms. Follow me.”
Ermintrude pulled Agatha back and went in her place. Agatha trailed in their wake.
After a long leering gaze from Maddie’s feet to her face Sanford threw her a sneering smile and followed.
Chapter Fifteen
Prescott House May 28th Sunday Morning
The sun sent a bright shaft of light between Donatien’s desk and Petit. Under his master’s intense black gaze the dwarf neither saw nor was warmed by it.
“That is all the information you have?” Donatien asked, his tone ominous.
Petit, his shoulders hunched, raised his hands palms up in a hopeless gesture. “It is all I was told, monseigneur.”
“Medworth neither discovered nor revealed a single piece of useful information?”
“I was told only that the Capitaine was in the house for a brief period. That when he came out he appeared shaken but said nothing before he ordered the troops back to barracks.
“I do have a piece of information,” Petit hurried on hoping to forestall Donatien’s anger. “About those who arrived at Hart Cottage. It was M. Sanford Vincouer, his mother, and sister.” The angry snap of Porteur’s fingers chilled Petit.
“Their purpose in coming?”
Petit hung his head. “I have not discovered this.”
Donatien drew a sheet of parchment from a drawer in the desk. He rapidly penned three notes. As he sanded and sealed the notes, he instructed, “A rumour is to reach Captain Medworth that a ship landed four miles west of Limes Point. That its contraband has been stored in the outbuildings of the Cavilon estate. This information is to reach him Wednesday morning, the 31st of May.” He penned a name on each note and then held out the first.
“See that this one is delivered as soon as the Vincouer family returns from this morning’s services.”
Petit’s heart dropped at sight of Mademoiselle Vincouer’s name.
“This billet is to be given to the Vincouer butler after—mind I say after—Mademoiselle Vincouer leaves the house.” Donatien chuckled. “Mademoiselle Vincouer will rush to meet you—”
Petit dared not speak in the expectant pause.
“At the Vincouer family mausoleum,” his master continued. “You feel a kindness for Mademoiselle Vincouer, n’est-ce
pas? Then who better to convince her that she must make very certain her dear papa’s death is not discovered?”
Petit struggled to hide his dismay. “But how can she—”
“I do not care. Make certain she understands that she has no option for failure. Tell her that her brother and youngest sister shall disappear. Perhaps into the sea. Perhaps I shall take them to France. Who knows what Letu will decide to do with them once they are on the ship.” He handed Petit the third note.
Petit looked at the name and asked with forced nonchalance. “M. Broyal?”
“I have made his instructions most explicit. We shall see if he can yet be useful.” Donatien leaned back in his chair, a sardonic glint in his eyes. “It is much better when the game, it becomes interesting, n’est-ce pas?”
* * *
Hart Cottage Early Sunday Afternoon
The Vincouer relatives attended Sunday services with Miss Benton and the children while Maddie remained at home to care for her “father.” She had in fact, avoided Quentin.
It was early afternoon when he held back a curtain to watch Maddie and Sanford stroll in the formal garden that lay off the balcony. Quentin scowled when Sanford took hold of one of Maddie’s hands and a moment later, the other. He let the curtain fall. Clasping his hands behind his back, Quentin paced slowly as he contemplated what to do.
Polishing Broyal’s Hessians, Jenks watched. “I don’t understand why you didn’t tell her who ye are,” he muttered. “Would put that jackstraw cousin of hers in his place.” Giving a final buff to the boot, he set it aside. “A battle is never won if the commanding officers have different battle plans.”
“’Tis not the war I am concerned about,” mumbled Quentin. He paused at the window and again edged the curtain back.
Jenks, picking up the second boot, snorted. “He can’t hurt her paradin’ in a garden. Besides she reminds me a little of the Glacier. Not the sort to let a gent get away with anything.” The batman shook his head. “Still don’t understand why—”
