‘James and the Colonel are well beaten, my love. They do not care to try their luck again this evening. James is the culprit, you must know.’ The older woman was laughing, but her eyes were anxious as they searched Amy’s face. The child looked as if she had had a shock. No discussion of arms and armour could have caused that strained expression.
‘Are you quite well, Amy?’ she asked in a low tone. ‘If you have the headache, Ellen shall bring you a tisane.’
Amy managed a faint smile. ‘I did feel a little strange for just a moment, Aunt. You know how I hate the cold. I fear I sat too close to the fire. It has passed off now.’
‘Well, if you are sure? Did Sir William bore you?’
‘Far from it!’ Amy said with feeling. ‘He is a gentleman of unsuspected depths.’
‘Really? I saw that you were laughing as he spoke to you. I had not imagined him to be a wit.’
Amy became aware that James was watching her closely. It would not do to let him guess the subject of her conversation with Sir William.
‘He has the most delightful sense of humour,’ she announced. ‘I found him vastly entertaining.’
The little gathering broke up shortly afterwards. It was as the others were taking their leave of her aunt that James came to her side.
‘What did William say to you?’ he asked. ‘Something has upset you.’
Amy lost her temper then. She was out of patience with James, Sir William and the Comte. They were becoming the worst bores in the world with their petty mysteries and accusations.
‘He merely confirmed your opinion of the Comte de Vionnet,’ she snapped. ‘He added a little more gossip, of course, but nothing to compare with the Comte’s belief that you and your friend have killed a dozen men.’
James looked as if she had struck him and Amy felt a pang of anguish. She would have recalled her words if possible, but the damage had been done.
James bowed. ‘The Comte did not lie to you,’ he said.
Chapter Six
Amy did not sleep that night. Her world had been turned upside down. Had she not heard the truth from James himself she would never have believed it.
If asked, she would have claimed to know him as well as she knew herself. He was her dearest friend. Now she felt that she was on shifting sands. If James had failed her, what else could she believe?
Tortured by her own imagination, she tossed and turned until the following morning. Then, heavy-eyed and listless, she went to greet her aunt.
Miss Langrishe was not an early riser. Now, propped up in bed against a pile of pillows, she nibbled at a soft roll and sipped her chocolate. A glance at Amy’s face was enough to worry her.
‘There!’ she announced. ‘Did I not say last evening that you were sickening for something, Amy? You are not yourself at all today. There is not the least need for you to dress, my dear. Do you keep to your room and I will send for the physician.’
‘I beg that you will not do so,’ Amy said quickly. ‘I am perfectly well, if a little tired.’
‘Well, if you are quite sure? Perhaps it is that time of the month…?’
Amy did not deny it. She had never had a problem with her monthly courses, but the obvious explanation would satisfy Miss Langrishe.
‘At least we have a quiet day today,’ her aunt comforted. ‘No outings and no dinner guests. The rest will do you good, my dear.’
Apparently it was not to be. A tap at the door brought the butler to announce that Miss Wentworth had a visitor.
‘I am not at home,’ Amy said quickly. Then she reconsidered. It might be Charlotte Skelmersdale. ‘Who is it?’ she asked.
‘Sir James Richmond is waiting in the salon, miss.’
Amy winced. How could she face him? Again she denied herself, much to her aunt’s astonishment.
‘Not at home to James?’ she asked in wonder. ‘My dear, what can you be thinking of?’
‘I don’t feel well,’ Amy insisted stubbornly.
‘But, Amy, you have just assured me that there is nothing wrong with you.’
Amy could not look at her. The tears welled up and she choked back a sob.
Miss Langrishe motioned the servant out of the room.
‘Come here, my child!’ she said. ‘Amy, have you quarrelled with James?’
Amy nodded. She was incapable of speech.
‘Will you not see him and make it up with him? This can be only a misunderstanding and must surely be forgiven…’
Amy shook her head.
Her aunt’s tone grew stern. ‘This is unlike you, my dear. You have always had such a generous spirit. Don’t bear a grudge, I beg of you! It injures only the person holding it.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Amy whispered. ‘This is a serious matter.’
‘Well, then, is it not time to get to the heart of it? I do not care to see the people I love most at such odds with each other. I have no wish to pry into the reason for your differences, but James is a man of honour, my dear. He could do nothing to give you a dislike of him. Go to him now and seek an explanation.’
It was clear that she would brook no argument, so Amy dried her eyes and summoned all her courage. As she bent to kiss her aunt the servant reappeared with a note upon a silver salver.
‘The gentleman refused to leave, ma’am.’ His tone was stiff with disapproval. ‘With your permission I am to give this to Miss Wentworth.’
Amy took the note in silence. She opened it to read two words, heavily underlined. All it said was ‘Amy, please!’
She handed it to Miss Langrishe, who gave her a sunny smile.
‘There, you see! Our friend is not so stiff-necked, after all. Meet him halfway my love, and then you will be happy again.’
Amy followed the servant from the room, leaving Miss Langrishe to her own thoughts. She was not overly concerned by the news of the quarrel between the two young people. Where strong emotions were concerned there must inevitably be some friction, and James, she sensed, was already deep in love with Amy.
The child herself still saw him merely as a friend, but one who was very dear to her. For some moments the older woman pondered on possible causes for the quarrel. James was such an amiable creature, and Amy herself was full of fun. It was a pleasure to see them together. What then could have caused this serious rift? It could be due only to some outside influence, but she could not begin to guess at it.
Amy did not hurry to the salon. Even at the door she hesitated with her hand upon the knob. She’d caught a glimpse of her reddened eyes as she passed the mirror in the hall, and the sight did nothing to encourage her. At last she straightened her shoulders, thrust out her chin, and marched into the room.
James was standing by the window, gazing out at the busy street. He spun round at her approach and his good resolutions fled.
He had spent a wretched night, torn between a passionate longing for this spirited girl, and his own belief that he must hide his love from her. Now a glance at her troubled face brought him to her with his arms outstretched.
‘Amy, I have been an unfeeling brute!’ he confessed. ‘Can you ever forgive me? Last night I spoke without thinking.’
‘I do that all the time!’ Amy gave him a watery smile. Her hands were clasped in his and it was a comforting feeling. ‘I…I’ll admit that I was shocked. Oh, James, you did not mean those words, did you? I had snapped at you and passed on those silly accusations. I don’t blame you for being cross with me. It was enough to try a saint!’
‘And I am no saint, my dear.’ James gave her a wry look. ‘I behaved like a lout, but your good opinion is important to me. I was stung into that sharp reply. Your words hit home, you know.’
‘But why? If they are untrue there is no more to be said. Let us forget that they were ever spoken—’
‘No, we can’t forget.’ James slipped an arm about her waist and led her over to the couch. ‘Sit down, Amy! I have been much at fault. I should have taken you into my confidence earlier.’ He looked down at he
r with such a loving expression that her heart turned over. ‘You will think me old-fashioned, but I cannot rid myself entirely of the notion that women must be protected from the uglier side of life.’
He laid a finger on her lips as she started to protest.
‘In your case I suspect that I was wrong,’ he continued. ‘I had considered your youth, and the fact that you had led a sheltered life, but I should have known that you had strength enough to cope with a tale which might give many another woman a strong attack of the vapours. I shan’t make that mistake again, I promise you.’
‘Thank you!’ she said quietly. ‘I am listening, James, and I promise not to faint.’
‘I know it!’ For a brief moment he slipped an arm about her shoulders and hugged her. Then he leaned forward and was lost in thought for a few moments.
‘It isn’t easy to know where to start,’ he admitted. ‘You know that Linden and I have travelled widely?’
Amy nodded.
‘Philippe de Vionnet first came to our attention when we were in India. In that vast country, communities of Europeans are small, and little escapes the notice of their compatriots or of the local inhabitants. After a time we heard that certain of the local temples were being robbed of their treasures. It was thought to be the work of local bandits, though it seemed unlikely in that religious country.’
Amy was listening intently.
‘Then one day my syce came to me—’
‘A syce?’
‘It is the word for a groom,’ he explained. ‘The man accused de Vionnet and said that he had proof.’
‘You believed him?’
‘He offered to show us a robbery taking place on the following night.’
‘And did you go?’
‘We did not. Next morning the man was found in his quarters with his throat cut.’
Amy gasped and made a convulsive movement. ‘You could not know that the Comte had anything to do with that.’
‘True, we had no proof, but de Vionnet had disappeared. We searched his bungalow, but found no trace of the cache of gold and jewels that were said to be hidden there.’
‘It could have been coincidence that he left at that particular time,’ Amy protested half-heartedly.
James gave her a quizzical look. ‘What an excellent lawyer you would make, my dear, especially for the defence! In a court of law I should be happy to have you on my side.’
Amy shook her head. ‘What happened then?’ she asked.
‘Sadly, we had to leave our work in India. No further cooperation was forthcoming from the local inhabitants. They did not share your belief in the Comte’s innocence. We decided to move to Africa.’
Amy sighed with relief. ‘I knew that you could not be guilty of murder,’ she assured him. ‘I never believed the Comte, you know.’
James’s face was grave. ‘You have not heard me out, my dear. How much do you know about the slave trade?’
Amy’s heart sank. Sir William had mentioned the trafficking in human souls in connection with Philippe de Vionnet. She had refused to believe him. Was she now to be given incontrovertible proof?
‘I know very little about it,’ she faltered. ‘To be honest I haven’t wished to hear about the details. It is too appalling to contemplate. I found it hard to believe that men and women and children could be seized against their will and shipped to the Americas.’
‘Believe it!’ His face was grim. ‘Where profit is concerned all moral values seem to disappear, and this dirty trade is more profitable than dealing in commodities such as sugar, cotton or tobacco. The unfortunate victims are referred to as “black gold”.’
‘But does no one try to stop it?’ Amy’s sense of justice was outraged.
‘It is difficult. Trade is a “sacred cow” in much of the world, but popular opinion is changing, especially in this country. Yet many of the fine houses that you see in Bristol have been built on the profits from the trafficking in slaves.’
Amy hesitated. ‘You seem to know so much about it, James. Were you aware of it in Africa?’
‘We could scare avoid it. William and I would go up-country in search of guides and porters, only to find deserted villages. The Arab slavers were long gone, together with their human booty.’
‘I should have thought that the villagers would band together in their own defence,’ she told him warmly.
‘Against well-armed men with a centuries-old tradition of slaving behind them?’ James shook his head. ‘They were the masters of surprise attack, though it was not always necessary.’
She looked a question at him.
‘It happened on occasion that the native chiefs sold their own people to the slavers,’ he explained.
Amy stared at him in horror and he took her hand. ‘There were many others who did not do so, but we found it difficult to gain their confidence. They would not trust any Europeans.’
‘But why? You were not seeking slaves and I’m sure that you would offer to pay them well to work for you.’
‘I know. We could not understand it. Then we had a stroke of luck. We saved a child who had been mauled by a lioness. The beast had been injured, could not bring down its usual prey, and had terrorised the village for months, lying in wait for the unfortunate inhabitants. We tracked down the animal and killed it.’
‘Oh, that was well done of you!’ Some of the colour returned to Amy’s cheeks. ‘Did the child recover?’
‘Yes! Apparently he was the son of the headman. After that we could do no wrong, though we could sense the atmosphere of terror among the people. This was an isolated village, as yet undiscovered by the slavers. Even so, the people lived in fear of a legendary white man. It puzzled us.’
Amy closed her eyes. Now they were coming to the crux of the matter and her spirit rebelled. She did not want to hear him out, but she had agreed to do so.
‘Did you know him?’ she whispered. ‘There must have been few Europeans in that part of the country, but perhaps he came from the Americas?’
‘He was described to us.’ James did not look at her. ‘A young man speaking fluent French and in possession of large sums of money.’
‘There could have been many such, from places such as Louisiana—’
‘This gentleman had come from India, Amy. Even so, we did not suspect that he was known to us. Then we met him in the city. It was the Comte de Vionnet.’
‘But you could not be sure that it was the same man,’ she insisted.
‘True, and for a time we gave him the benefit of the doubt. Nothing had been proved against him in India, and he was always entertaining company. He sympathised with our efforts to find guides and porters, and even offered to help us.’
Amy was silent.
‘We were, of course, at a loss to account for his wealthy life style. In India he had been considered just another poverty-stricken refugee from the French Revolution, but it was perfectly possible that he had found some legitimate source of riches. In Africa anything is possible. It is a country rich in gold and diamonds.’
Amy seized his hands. ‘Don’t keep me in suspense!’ she pleaded. ‘Tell me the truth of it!’
‘Oh, he had found his source of riches, Amy. We told few people about our friendly village, but he was one of them. Some days later we set off for the interior, planning our expedition in great detail. That night, as we slept, the village was attacked by a large band of men. We had been followed.’
Amy’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, no!’ she cried. ‘You might have been killed!’
James gave her a grim smile. ‘We gave a good account of ourselves,’ he assured her. ‘William did not miss a single target.’
‘Sir William?’ Amy said in wonder. ‘I had not thought that he, above any man, could be considered a warrior.’
‘You don’t know him, Amy. He is the finest shot I know. Has he deceived you too?’
Amy considered for a time. ‘Not altogether,’ she admitted. ‘He has surprised me more than once. I did not suspect him of
such a sense of humour, and in his quiet way he sees so much.’
‘He sees more than you might imagine,’ James agreed.
‘Then why does he pretend to be so…woolly-headed?’
‘It can be useful on occasion. For example, our attackers did not expect such opposition.’
‘I see. Then these were the men you killed in a fair fight?’ It was a horrifying tale, but Amy felt a sense of relief. James and Sir William were not murderers as the Comte had hinted. They had merely defended themselves and the people of the village.
‘It was a bloody business, but there was no help for it. They would have slaughtered us without compunction.’
Amy gazed down at her hands. Without knowing it she had twisted the handkerchief into rags.
‘I am glad that you were not injured, James, but even so you can’t be sure that it was the Comte who had betrayed your destination. Did you see him among the attackers?’
James shook his head. ‘It was too dark to distinguish faces. We fired at the source of the attacking fire… At dawn we examined the bodies, but they were those of Arabs.’
‘Then how could you be sure of his guilt?’
‘We couldn’t. William pointed out quite reasonably that the slavers might have heard of the village from another source. We decided to give de Vionnet the benefit of the doubt, although we did intend to question him.’
‘And what had he to say?’
‘We did not find out. He had disappeared once more.’
‘So you can’t be sure of his involvement in the trade?’
‘Not then. It was some weeks later that we learned the truth of it.’
‘From whom?’
‘From a merchant who was known to us. He’d had the story from his porters who had relatives in the village. This man travelled widely. We had not seen him for some time. When he sought us out it was to warn us against any further involvement with the Comte. Philippe de Vionnet had a price upon his head.’
‘But why?’ Amy’s eyes were huge.
‘It’s a long story, Amy. He, apparently, was the link between the Arab traders and the ships’ masters. The Arabs spoke French but the English captains did not. The Comte was useful to both sides. There was soon dissension. He was suspected of helping himself to rather more of the profits than had been agreed, but nothing could be proved. His command of both languages placed him in a good position to cheat, but his customers were not happy. It was the raid on the village that brought matters to a head.’
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