"Unless someone, like you, discovers her again," I said.
"If you and Major Auberge cooperate with me, I could erase any trail to her. Mrs. Lacey would, to the world, be dead. You might even inscribe a headstone," he finished, with chill humor, glancing at me.
The idea tempted me. To simply send Carlotta away, to tell the world she'd died in France, would be the simplest route, for her and for me.
Uneasiness pricked me. I pictured myself ten years hence, happily married to Donata Breckenridge--that is, if she did not turn me away over this business--and having some busybody announcing to her that the first Mrs. Lacey was still alive and well. I would be arrested as a bigamist, Donata humiliated.
"I dislike that solution," I said. "Though I realize it is likely easiest. But there is more here at stake than our marriage." I looked at Carlotta. "I want Gabriella. I do not want her to disappear with you, never to be seen again. I want her to stay in England with me."
Carlotta looked up swiftly. "No."
"She is my daughter."
She gave me a desperate look. "She is my daughter. I will not let you take her away from me."
My anger rose. "You had no qualms taking her away from me. I am her legal guardian, Carlotta, not you. I decide her fate, not you."
"She does not even know you are her father," Carlotta said hotly. "She believes that Henri is."
"I gathered that," I said. "It does not matter what you told her, the fact is that I am her father, and by law, you have no right to her."
"You would take her?" Carlotta began to cry, tears pooling on her cheeks. "You would do such a thing? Take her away from her mother and the father she knows and her brothers and sisters?"
My hand closed on my walking stick. "Of course I do not mean to rip her from the bosom of her family. I am certain she has affection for all of you. But neither do I intend to let you shut her away from me. She is mine, and I claim her. If that means I do have to drag you through every court in England to get her away from you, I will."
"And I will fight you," Auberge said quietly, "if you do."
"You have no rights at all," I told him. "You stole my wife and my child, and left me nothing. I find that your threats do not concern me."
"I was driven away," Carlotta choked out.
"That does not matter," I said. "I would have let you go, because I know that in the end you hated me. But you should have left Gabriella."
"Abandon my child?"
"My child," I said savagely. "But you cared nothing for that."
She balled her fists. "Was I to leave her to your horrible life following the drum? With mud and filth and sour food and the danger of being massacred at any time? What sort of life was that for a child?"
"I might have given up the army and taken her home to England. But you never gave me the chance."
"You had no intention of living in England. You hated it. You loved the army. I remember."
I could not argue this point. In England, I had my father's house to return to with my martinet father in it. I would rather submit a child to the dangers of army life than to my father and his insane rages.
"Louisa Brandon would have looked after her--gladly," I said.
Carlotta shot me a look of pure hatred. "Mrs. Brandon. Always Mrs. Brandon."
"Please," Auberge broke in. He looked at me in anguish. "Please stop."
I closed my mouth in a firm line. Carlotta collapsed back on the sofa, sobbing, her hands pressed to her face.
Denis had sat through the exchange impassively, watching us without expression. He must have been used to listening to histrionics, especially when called upon to dispense his own form of justice.
"I am afraid that Captain Lacey is right," he said in his dispassionate tone. "He is Miss Lacey's legal guardian, no matter what you, Madame and Monsieur, or even Miss Lacey herself, feel about the matter. I am certain we can come to some sort of arrangement after the marriage has been dissolved."
Carlotta continued to cry. Auberge sat like a miserable lump next to her. My heart burned. They had wronged me, but I could not help but let Carlotta's pathos touch me. She had never been a strong woman, and from the look of things, she'd leaned heavily on Auberge throughout the years. Now Auberge was at a loss, and Carlotta could not master herself.
Denis moved the papers aside again and nodded to his stolid footman, who'd said not a word or moved during the entire encounter. He was no doubt used to histrionics as well.
"I will have the solicitor begin the a mensa et thoro proceeding at the very least," Denis said. "You need do nothing for now, Mrs. Lacey, but wait in your boardinghouse for my instruction. I know enough people in the right places to make this as painless as possible."
I had no doubt. He would call in favors all over London from men too terrified of him to disobey.
Auberge rose. He gently took Carlotta's elbow and pulled her to her feet. "We will go now. Come."
Carlotta wiped her hand over her face. Her cheeks were smeared with tears, her eyes bright red, her nose swollen. She was not a pretty woman, I realized. What I'd been smitten with as a lad of twenty had been young limbs, a shy smile, and large eyes.
Auberge, however, looked at her with a tenderness that said he did not care a fig what she looked like. He loved her, doubtless more than I ever had.
The footman gestured Auberge and Carlotta out of the room. They went, Carlotta clinging heavily to Auberge's arm. When I tried to follow, the footman blocked my path to the door, which made me know that Denis had instructed him beforehand not to let me leave.
"I do not like this," I said, once the door had closed behind them. "And I do not like your offer to foot the bill."
Denis shrugged. "You want this divorce."
"You may think nothing of destroying a woman for gain, but I must have compassion for her. If not for Gabriella, I'd turn my back on Carlotta's actions and let her be dead." I paused, sighed. "No, truth to tell, I do not know what I would do. I am sorry, in a way, that you found her." That was not true either, because I was gladder than I'd ever been in my life to find Gabriella whole and well.
"There is another way," Denis began softly, his eyes cool, "that we have not discussed. One that would make you free with the least amount of fuss."
A chill crept into my bones. He stared back at me, blue eyes impenetrable.
He could do it. He could order Carlotta murdered and never turn a hair. He had enough pull in London to hire someone to do it quietly and send Auberge home alone, the magistrates none the wiser.
I took a step closer to Denis. The footman bent a watchful eye on me, but I ignored him. "If you harm a hair on Carlotta's head, I will kill you. I do not care how you'd try to stop me; I would do it."
We shared a look. I saw him assess what I was capable of and make his decision. He did not decide out of fear; he simply decided. "Very well."
Damn the man. He could coolly stand and contemplate murdering a man's wife as a favor and think nothing of it. Another reason why I could never bring myself to work for James Denis.
I straightened up and set my walking stick on the floor. "I would be the first man suspected, in any case."
"Very likely," Denis said, his mouth straight. "Very well then, Captain. We will begin with the courts."
*** *** ***
I left Denis's house in a foul mood. I waved away the carriage that waited to take me back to Covent Garden and tramped on foot northward. I could not bring myself to go home and brood. I needed to walk, I needed to think, I needed to talk to someone who would understand.
Not surprisingly, my footsteps took me up South Audley Street, past the home of Lady Breckenridge, who was no doubt fast asleep--a lady of fashion did not rise before noon--and through Grosvenor Square to the Brandon house in Brook Street.
* * * * *
Chapter Six
My knock was answered by Brandon's very correct butler, Matthews. I knew that the man had once been a corporal in the Thirty-Fifth Light, joining to esca
pe a shady past, and had gotten himself into trouble in the army more than once. When he'd been about to desert, Louisa had rescued him, promising him protection if he reformed his ways. He'd become her devoted servant, taking the post of footman upon their return to London. Domestic service seemed to be his forte, as evidenced by his rapid rise from footman to butler.
He peered at me down his once-broken nose, his hauteur genuine but conflicting with his thick body and criminal-class stare. "Mrs. Brandon is not at home, sir."
"At eleven in the morning?" I asked skeptically. "Is she at Lady Aline's?"
"I beg your pardon, sir. I mean that she is not at home to you."
I blinked. Louisa Brandon had never before instructed her servants to send me away. "Is she all right?"
"Perfectly fine, sir."
I closed my mouth with a snap and looked him up and down. "Let me in, Matthews."
His eyes widened. One eye had been damaged in a fight long ago and was perpetually half-bloodshot. "And disobey the mistress? Never, sir."
"Tell her that I forced my way past you, which I will do if you do not stand aside."
Louisa would be furious with Matthews--and me--if he let me in, but at the same time, I was desperate and angry. Mathews had witnessed my famous temper on the Peninsula, and though he probably matched me in strength, he always watched me warily.
He deliberately took one step to the side. "Very well, sir. I will tell madam that I held out manfully."
"Good." I strode past him. As Matthews shut the door and reached for my hat and gloves, I asked, "Why does she not want to see me?"
"She does not want to speak to anyone in connection with the colonel's recent incarceration, sir. She is most sensitive about it."
"And where is the colonel?"
"At his club. He, I believe, has decided to bluff it out."
I could imagine. Brandon and I belonged to a fledgling club for cavalry officers in a tavern in St. James's. I pictured him sitting in the taproom with his newspapers, casting his chill blue gaze over anyone who tried to bring up the embarrassment of his brief stay in Newgate. Brandon had a fiery and compelling personality, and if he willed people not to talk about it, they would not.
I knew where Louisa would be at eleven in the morning. I trudged upstairs to her yellow sitting room, where she liked to take breakfast and go over her correspondence on mornings that her husband was out.
She sat on a low sofa, wearing her favorite yellow, a gown of soft muslin. She had not yet dressed her hair, and it hung down her back in a loose golden braid. I'd always thought her lovely, with her crooked nose, wide mouth, and light gray eyes. Those eyes flashed irritation, however, when she beheld me entering, unannounced.
"I believe I will have Matthews flogged," she said.
"I bested him in a fair fight." I sat down on a sofa next to hers, tossing my walking stick to the floor. "Do you deny me your door now?"
Her eyes held challenge. "Am I not allowed a few moments' solitude?"
"How long have we been friends, Louisa?"
"Above twenty years, I believe."
"Exactly. And have we not shared hardship as well as good times? Have we not helped one another over the worst in our lives?" I leaned forward. "Do not shut me out now, Louisa. I need you."
"I found Black Nancy for you. Was that not enough?"
"Carlotta is in London," I said abruptly. "I've just come from a meeting with her."
Louisa's irritation vanished in an instant. Her face lost color, and her gray eyes grew sharp and hard, like many-faceted diamonds. "In London? Where?"
"I spoke with her at James Denis's, but she is staying in a boardinghouse in King Street, Covent Garden. Denis brought her here, to facilitate a divorce."
"Oh." Louisa's voice was as hard as her eyes. "I would like to see her."
"She has changed," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. "I believe life in the French countryside agrees with her."
Louisa's mouth flattened. "She had no right to leave you. I saw what it did to you. She had no right to do that."
Her vehemence startled me. Louisa had been very angry when Carlotta had deserted me, but I had no idea she still clung to the anger. "I forgave her, Louisa. The leaving of me, I mean. I made her terribly unhappy."
"Carlotta was a bloody fool. If she'd opened her eyes, she would have seen what a blessing she had in you, what a worthy man you are. But she was always selfish." Louisa broke off and held up her hand. "Do not worry, Gabriel, I will not beg you again to run off with me to Paris. When I asked you that, I was hurt and confused by Aloysius's betrayal. That must have been extremely awkward for you."
Her cheeks were red now. She, after learning of her husband's infidelity, had asked me to take her on a wild liaison to France. I would have been more flattered had I not known she had more wanted to punish her husband than be with me. I had reasoned her out of such a rash action.
"You were much agitated," I said. "What happened that day is no reason to bar your door to me now."
She softened. "I do hope you did not hurt Matthews."
"I battered him only metaphorically. I needed to see you."
"About Carlotta." Louisa frowned. "I truly wish to tell her what I think. What of Gabriella? Where is she?"
"She is here with Carlotta." I paused. "I saw her. Louisa, she is so beautiful."
Tears welled in my eyes again, and I saw matching tears in Louisa's. She moved to me and took my hand, and we sat thusly, each of us thinking of Gabriella.
I loved Louisa, my dearest friend, who'd helped me through every heartache. I knew now that we never would have been happy as husband and wife, or even as lovers, but I thanked God for her friendship.
She kissed the top of my head and sat back down, drawing out her handkerchief and wiping her eyes. "We are a pair of boobies," she said, sniffling. "Nancy told me you'd said you knew Gabriella was safe, but I thought you referred to the information Mr. Denis had given you this spring."
"Gabriella is well and safe, and a father could not be more proud of a child." I retrieved my own handkerchief, mopped up the damage, and stuffed the cloth back into my pocket. "My task now is to decide what to do about Carlotta."
I outlined everything Denis had told me. "I dislike his hand in this. His solutions to problems are to cut ruthlessly to the quick, no matter who he harms in the process."
By the firm lines around Louisa's mouth, I knew she shared Denis's opinion. "Why be gentle with Carlotta?" she asked. "She certainly was not to you. Divorce her and be done."
"The scandal will taint me as well as her."
Louisa waved this away. "She will return to France and be Colette Auberge. No one in her French village will worry about the divorce of Captain and Mrs. Lacey in faraway London. You are protected by the reputation of Grenville--if he says you are in, you are in. You could stand on Piccadilly in your shirtsleeves and chuck bricks at passersby, and still society would fawn on you because you are Grenville's favorite. Likewise, Lady Breckenridge and her family are quite powerful. No one will dare shun her for favoring you."
"Possibly not," I said.
"Take Carlotta to court, Lacey. She deserves it."
"You have become vindictive."
"Well, when my innocent husband can be accused of murder, why should a woman guilty of adultery be let free?"
I thought I understood. This spring, a woman with whom Colonel Brandon had confessed to having an affair had dragged him firmly into the murder in Berkeley Square. Louisa had not forgiven the woman for that or for the affair, and she likely had not yet forgiven Brandon. Louisa was extending this anger to Carlotta, another woman who'd broken a marriage.
"I wish I were as vindictive," I said. "It would give me a plain path. As it is, I do not know which direction to take. I came here for your clearheaded thinking."
"About this, I cannot be clearheaded. I do not know what you will think of me, but I am afraid I wish Carlotta to suffer a little." Louisa paused, softening. "Might I see
Gabriella?"
"Of course you may. I have an appointment this afternoon to interview a sailor from Wapping, but after that, I will be free. Come to Grimpen Lane this evening, and I will take you to Gabriella."
"Carlotta will not permit it," she predicted darkly.
"As I reminded Carlotta not an hour ago, I am Gabriella's legal guardian. She will permit what I say she will permit."
Louisa sent me an odd look. She opened her mouth then shook her head, as though she'd been prepared to say something and thought better of it. "I am sorry I cannot help you on the matter of Carlotta."
"There are no simple answers. That is not your fault." I squeezed her hand, then got to my feet. "Is Black Nancy here? She wants to meet the sailor and quiz him about his lost ladybird."
"She is downstairs." Louisa rose and rang a bell. "I quite enjoy having her here. She is an excellent conversationalist. Very diverting."
"She said the same about you. I do apologize for bursting in and burdening you with my problems. I seem to always be doing so."
"We are friends, Gabriel," she answered. "Naturally, we seek one another when we are troubled. I hope that it may always be so."
She smiled a little, and I was pleased that she'd decided to put her embarrassment over our encounters during the Berkeley Square matter behind us. Perhaps anger at Carlotta and joy at Gabriella's return would unite us again.
Louisa sent the footman who responded to the bell to fetch Nancy then accompanied me down the stairs, her hand tucked through my arm. We reached the ground floor to see Matthews pull open the front door as a carriage rolled to a stop before it. A footman sprang to open the coach, and Colonel Brandon descended and strode into the house.
Colonel Aloysius Brandon had black hair, graying at the temples, keen blue eyes, a trim physique, and a brusque manner. He had been a competent commander, earning respect as well as rank. He had gotten me my first commission, which I hadn't been able to afford to purchase, by knowing the right men and pulling in favors and possibly using outright bribery. He'd helped me up the ladder in the army, although I'd moved no further than captain. Beyond that I truly did need influence and wealth, and generals did not always appreciate my forthright manner and frank opinions. My own fault, but I'd never learned to scrape and bow.
A Covent Garden Mystery Page 7
