The Tavistock Plot

by Tracy Grant

  "So I did."

  "You'd think you'd have realized such vehement opposition was likely to make us do quite the opposite."

  Carfax leaned back in his chair. "Yes, you'd think I would."

  Julien stared at his uncle. "Oh, my God."

  Carfax adjusted his cuff. "I bungled things badly with David. I'm fully capable of bungling again, but I rarely make the same mistake twice. I do realize separating two people determined to be together is likely to have all sorts of adverse consequences. Much better to try to make the relationship work."

  "I was so sure you'd object, that we got a special license to get it done at once."

  "You'd have wanted a special license anyway. I hope you're not saying you're sorry to be married?"

  "Of course not. I was rather stunned she accepted me."

  "Well, then. Just as well you didn't let things drag out because you were afraid to put it to the touch."

  Julien folded his arms over his chest. "One more thing. I don't know that we'll have any more children. We haven't decided yet." Actually, they hadn't talked about it at all, but he wasn't going into that with Carfax. "We're quite happy with the three we have, and they need a lot of attention just now. If we decide to have more, and we have a daughter or two, we aren't going to keep going just in hopes of having a son."

  "Fair enough."

  Julien leaned against a console table, arms folded across his chest. "You're sounding entirely too equable, sir."

  "Say I'm mellowing in my old age."

  Julien gave a hoot of laughter.

  "Or that I'm too relieved to see you settled to cavil at details."

  Julien watched his uncle for a moment in the lamplight. Mostly, Carfax looked little different from the way Julien remembered when he had disappeared from Britain twenty-five years ago. But there were lines in the weathered skin on that sharp-featured face that Julien didn't remember, or that were more deeply scored. An unfamiliar warmth tugged at Julien's brain. Carfax normally sat with the light at his back. Had he positioned himself with the light falling across his face precisely to play on Julien's sympathies?

  "Of course, as long as I'm living in the shadows, none of that matters," Julien said.

  "No." Carfax turned his glass in his hand. "But you're not going to remain in the shadows, are you?"

  Julien met his uncle's gaze. "It’s settled, then?" For all his decisions, for all his talks with Kitty and Malcolm, for all the talk they had just had with David, it was still difficult to believe it had come to this.

  "My dear boy, was it ever really anything else? You don't seriously think we can go on this way, do you? Malcolm knows. David knows, and he'll never put up with the secret. Once you decided to show yourself in Britain, it was only a matter of time. Surely you knew that."

  Had he? Or had he been fooling himself? Had he really believed he could go on as he was, or could disappear whenever he wanted? The night he'd killed Edgar Rannoch, the night he'd stayed with Kitty, the night he'd learned he had a daughter. Surely at that point, he'd known there was no turning back. Not unless Kitty wanted to disappear with him, and he couldn't ask that of her unless she chose it for herself.

  The truth was, for weeks now, he'd been on a sort of holiday, enjoying the time when he could still play at being an agent who could sink into the shadows. Shadows could be comforting. They'd been his home for nearly a quarter century. And however much he'd emerged from the shadows recently, the prospect of leaving them behind permanently still made him grow cold.

  "How long have you known?" he asked Carfax.

  "Since a year ago, when I found out you were working with Gisèle, and it was clear you were staying in Britain. I saw the risks six months before that, when we exchanged information the night of the Waterloo banquet. My misguided attempt to control David was my last effort at building a bulwark against what I should have seen as inevitable."

  Julien leaned back and rested his weight on his hands. "You had other options, surely. You could have had me killed. I haven't been much use to you as an agent since Waterloo. You must have considered it."

  Carfax crossed his legs. "Obviously, I examined every move available to me. That didn't seem the right one, for a number of reasons. Your re-emerging actually solves a number of problems. David's managing well, but this will make things easier for him. You saw how he reacted just now. He never really wanted the earldom. And it will take the wind out of the Elsinore League's sails nicely."

  "You sound very sanguine."

  "You'll make a good earl, Julien. Arthur."

  "My father didn't think so."

  "No, but though you tend to lump us together, your father and I didn't see eye to eye on a number of things."

  "I can't imagine it will be easy for Aunt Amelia."

  Carfax frowned slightly. "She knows you're back. As I said, she recognized you at the O'Roarkes' wedding."

  "Yes, I thought she probably would."

  "She's glad you're alive and well. But she has concerns about the children, as I mentioned to David. I hope David can make her see it's better for him. The girls are settled, except for Lucinda, and it shouldn't damage her prospects. I know it won't be the life Amelia expected, but then, that's been true in other ways."

  "She married you when you were Hubert Mallinson. And seemed quite happy about it."

  "I like to think so. But I've disappointed her in a number of ways."

  "Isn't disappointment inevitable at some point, in any relationship?" Julien said without consciously formulating the words, which was unusual for him. "We're none of us perfect. But the alternative is to eschew relationships entirely. Take it from one who's tried. It's not particularly comfortable."

  Carfax gave a wintry smile. "You and Kitty understand each other, at least. That's good to have, going in. In fact, I may have been wrong when I said she wasn't the bride I'd choose for you."

  "Admitting you're wrong, uncle? Don't strain things. I'm not sure we can sustain the reaction."

  Carfax leaned back in his chair. "It's a long time since you've called me uncle."

  He hadn't been consciously aware of that just now either. Not that he was about to admit it. "I couldn't have, without breaking cover. Now it seems I'm going to have to." The reality settled over him, like a mantle that didn't quite fit yet. "As I said, we should wait at least until the investigation is concluded." He still couldn't quite believe they were talking about it.

  Carfax tented his fingers together. "Assuming you're willing to cooperate with me, we should be able to concoct a reasonable story to explain your reappearance. The Rannochs got away with saying Laura Dudley—Laura O'Roarke now—had had amnesia."

  "Then we definitely can't use that."

  "You were young, you quarreled with your father, and he disowned you. You ran away. We can use a lot of the truth. During the war you were busy serving your country undercover—"

  "Ha."

  "There's some truth in that, if we don't talk about whom else you served."

  "There are going to be a number of uncomfortable questions for both of us."

  "Which is why we need to work together. Your past actions can be explained. And mine—"

  "If you really believed I was dead, yours don't enter into it."

  Carfax's smile deepened. "Precisely. If we time it correctly, we can surprise the League."

  Julien shared his uncle's appreciation of the prospect. But—"It's all very well, sir, but the League know the truth. They're likely to try to use it, as a spoiler if nothing else, because they can't use me and my past to control you."

  "Leave that to me." Carfax settled his elbows on the chair arms. "Truthfully, Julien, you're less of a challenging case to rehabilitate than Mélanie Rannoch and O'Roarke."

  "You didn't make Mélanie and Raoul safe."

  "No, Fanny did, quite brilliantly. But I can learn from her example."

  Julien cast a glance round the room and thought of his uncle's house. "We don't need—I have no particular desire
to live in Carfax House."

  "Let Kitty redo it the way Mélanie redid the Berkeley Square house. It's yours. Make it your own. We'll be quite comfortable back at the Grange. In many ways, we had the happiest years of our marriage there. I doubt this will be quite the same, but it won't be due to where we're living."

  Julien pushed himself away from the table, then hesitated. "I'm not proud of all the things I've done, but I'm not sorry, on the whole, that I had the chance to disappear. I wouldn't have the life I have now without it."

  "My dear Julien. I didn't send you off for your own benefit."

  "I know. You did it for your own. Or Britain's. I think you have a damnable time telling the two—or your own version of the two—apart. I expect you thought I'd most likely get myself killed, and then you'd be Carfax anyway and the title would be David's safely. Still, I've learned one can find oneself lying awake at night second-guessing all sorts of past actions. Should you ever find yourself doing that over our shared past, at least know I'm very grateful I didn't remain in the beau monde all these years. I imagine I'd be insufferable now, if I had."

  "Who says you aren't insufferable?" Carfax returned. But he smiled as he said it. "Give my felicitations to your bride."

  A few hours ago, even at the start of this interview, Julien would have shied away from doing anything of the sort. But now he nodded. "I will. But you'd much better come back upstairs and do so yourself. And you haven't been properly introduced to our children."

  Carfax got to his feet, a little stiffly.

  Julien waited for him and then opened the door. But before they left the room, he said, "Uncle Hubert? Thank you."

  After a surprisingly long interval talking with the children, Carfax got to his feet and walked over to Malcolm, who was opening a bottle of champagne by the drinks trolley. "I was wondering how long it would take you to work it out," he told Malcolm.

  "Your nephew said much the same thing."

  "I imagine that isn’t all he said."

  Malcolm wrapped a towel over the champagne cork. He wasn’t about to be drawn into confidences about Arthur Mallinson with his uncle. "You almost destroyed David’s life in your quest for an heir and the earldom wasn’t even yours to begin with."

  "I would think this would make you understand my concern for a stable line of succession."

  Malcolm thought back to the moments he’d seen Carfax confront Julien in Hyde Park a year and a half ago. That was just before Carfax had used Mel’s past to try to drive a wedge between David and Simon. Not that whatever had motivated him excused anything. "How could it be stable? It wasn’t even yours."

  "My dear Malcolm. As I’ve freely admitted to you, it isn’t bloodlines themselves that matter, it’s the appearance of continuity they provide."

  "And that excuses what you’ve done?"

  "I’ve improvised. You’ve improvised yourself on more than one occasion. Quite brilliantly."

  Malcolm twisted the champagne cork under the towel. "Forget bloodlines. Forget inherited privilege. You’ve spent years worrying about an heir. And you’re quite ignoring the fact that you have a remarkably capable candidate right in front of you. Who also has the advantage of being the actual possessor of the title."

  Carfax twisted his signet ring round his finger. "It didn’t seem that way twenty-five years ago."

  "No, I can imagine a lot of things seemed different twenty-five years ago."

  "Among other things my brother was determined to throw Arthur to the wolves. Which would have been a sad waste."

  "And was a good excuse to keep quiet about the fact that he was alive." The champagne cork popped free. Malcolm refilled Carfax's glass. "Of course if he’d have got himself killed you’d have been earl anyway. Which I imagine seemed likely."

  "Julien was too useful for me to want him to get himself killed. Though I admit at that point the thought of him as Carfax filled me with horror."

  "And now?"

  Carfax took a sip of champagne. "You make some good points."

  "He’s very like you. Only I think he has rather more scruples."

  "Oh, undoubtedly."

  Malcolm refilled his own glass. "He he isn’t your heir, of course. You’re his."

  "Quite." As often with difficult issues, Carfax made no attempt to deny it. "Until he has a son of his own."

  Malcolm's gaze jerked to the Ashford children. Julien was on the carpet helping Timothy guide Colin's toy carriage. Leo had Genny in his lap. Kitty was bent over both of them, laughing. "Kitty’s a very good mother. She’s very protective of her children. And she’s decided Julien’s good for them."

  "And you think he’s good for them."

  "He is. It’s a talent I wouldn’t have thought he had. Or perhaps I should have done, seeing him with Gelly."

  Carfax’s brows drew together

  "Gelly knows," Malcolm said. "Apparently she’s known Julien is Arthur Mallinson for some time. Since long before she learned you were her father." He watched Carfax for a moment. Even behind the spectacle lens, he could see Carfax's struggling to digest the information. "And yes, that does mean Julien places a rather extraordinary amount of trust in Gisèle. Even more than I realized. It also means you really can’t keep this contained."

  "That’s been apparent for the some time." Carfax pushed his spectacles up on his nose. "I have many faults, Malcom, but never let it be said I don’t know how to adapt."

  "David will be happier," Malcolm said. "He’d have made a good earl. But it’s never really been what he wanted."

  Carfax grunted. "I don’t know that it was ever what Julien wanted either."

  "Julien knows how to wear power. He won’t let it own him. Though I think he’ll be conscientious."

  "Yes, so do I," Carfax said. "He’s shown of late that he takes his responsibilities seriously. We saw that with Gerald Lumley."

  Leave it to Carfax to bring up the example of Julien’s protecting someone he himself had been trying to have killed. Malcolm lifted his champagne glass Carfax's own. "Thank you, sir."

  "For what?"

  Malcolm clinked his glass to Carfax's. "For being flexible when you most needed to be."

  Chapter 39

  Kitty closed the door of the boys' room and looked at Julien. Her husband. Was she ever going to get used to that? And why did the words squeeze her chest and bring a betraying prickle to her eyes?

  Julien was looking down at Genny, asleep in her cradle. As though aware of her regard, he looked up and gave a crooked smile.

  Oddly, Kitty found herself unsure what to say. Almost as though they were a typical couple on their wedding night and not two people so intimately acquainted in so many ways. "Carfax sounded surprisingly genuine in his congratulations."

  "Yes." Julien coughed. "It seems his negativity about our relationship was an attempt to get us to do the opposite."

  Kitty stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter.

  "Yes, I know," Julien said. "I should have seen it. I might have done, if I hadn't been so bloody terrified of what he might do to separate us." His gaze settled on her face for a long moment. "I was watching David with Tanner tonight when we went to see Tanner in Newgate. The sheer terror of losing the person he loves. And I realized that while tonight was much worse, he's lived with that terror for every moment they've been together. The fear that someone—that his father—would try to pull them apart. The fear that they could be hanged if there were public proof of their relationship. And yet he let himself love Simon." Julien smoothed Genny's blankets. "He let himself make a family with Simon. He was ready to give up everything he knew and the country he loved—and he loves Britain in a way I've never been able to comprehend—to preserve that family. He's a much braver man than I am."

  "It's always a risk in caring for someone," Kitty said. "Knowing one could lose them. It can play merry hell with one's nerves." Several moments danced in her memory. The day Julien had left Buenos Aires. The night he'd been shot in the alley behind the Ta
vistock, only a month since. Dozens of moments when she'd wondered if he'd leave. "But there are compensations."

  Julien crossed to her side and took her in his arms. "I'm sorry. This isn't the wedding night I wanted to give you."

  Kitty choked. "Julien, darling. Aside from the fact that that's the fault of Lady Shroppington, and that it was all resolved more quickly than we could hope, it's not as though we're stepping tentatively into matrimony. This is no different from last night. Well, aside from the fact that my wound is a bit more healed. I'm very happy to be married to you, but there's no need to dress it up in romance."

  "That's my Kitkat. I'd never dare dress anything up in romance with you. And you're right, it doesn't change what we are to each other. But—" Julien hesitated, gaze shifting over her face. "I was so focused on getting through today without any disruption. I didn't quite realize—" He drew a breath that had the scrape of thoughts that cannot quite be put into words. "Today meant a great deal to me."

  Kitty put a hand up to touch his face. "All right. I'll confess it did to me as well. And to own the truth, I didn't think marriage meant anything to me."

  He put his hand over her own. "I haven't had a home since I was sixteen. I'm not sure I properly had one then. But I have no doubt I have one now."

  She swallowed. For a moment, she wasn't sure she could speak. "That's rather remarkable, Julien."

  "Not so remarkable as your saying you trust me."

  "For heaven's sake, sweetheart. I leave my children with you. What greater sign of trust is there?"

  His gaze stilled on her face.

  She remembered the first time she'd left the children with him. An urgent message from a Spanish contact on her maid Dolores's day off. Julien's easy offer to stay. And she hadn't even thought twice about it. "You've never failed us, Julien."

  "Kitkat—"

  "I know. We can never tell what will happen. But I don't think you ever will, if it's in your power to do otherwise."