Justin felt the knot of fear in his stomach dissolving, while de Dalmy was staring at De la Nuit in astonishment. “Your father was the Comte de Mérchan?” he murmured.
De la Nuit laughed. “Yes, but it counts for little these days, my friend,” he said. “Please call me Charles. I wish to leave my past behind, including the days of De la Nuit.”
The three visited for a few minutes longer, and then Justin stated that they had to go. “There are certain people in London who will wish to talk to de Dalmy as soon as possible,” he explained, “so we must get started. How long before you can join us, De la… I mean, Charles?”
“At least three more weeks,” Charles said with a grimace. “Say, I don’t suppose you could send me some reading materials? I’m about to go mad with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling.”
“I’ll see to it first thing when I get to London,” Justin promised. “Better yet, I’ll send Luke to Hilltops to raid the library there. My stepmother never sets foot in the room, and I’m sure she won’t mind loaning you a few of my books.”
“I can’t tell you how much I would appreciate that, my friend. Perhaps I can repay you one day.”
“It’s nothing,” Justin said. “But when you get to London, you’ll need a place to stay. I’ll leave my address for you.”
“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary,” Charles said. “I have family in London, but do leave your address. I’ll still want to look you up.”
“You had better do so,” Justin said, “for I wish to introduce you to a few of my friends. Now, we really must be going.”
Justin was much more cheerful on the trip back to the inn. Although he was looking forward to seeing Mary and to transporting her to London, he had decided to display no particular partiality for her company. His experiences had taught him that a little cooling off on his part would result in increased interest on Mary’s part. His disappointment and fury could not have been greater when he learned that she had already left.
“You helped her get a seat on the stage?” he shouted at Tom, who had met them in the common room. “Why are earth did you do such a thing? You knew I was going to take her to London.”
“She asked me to,” Tom said simply.
“What of it?” Justin demanded. “Do you do everything you’re asked to do, or is it just that you would do anything that Mary asked you to do?”
“What’s going on here?” Luke had entered the room from the kitchen area. “What’s all the shouting about?”
“Mary wanted to go to London on the stage, and I helped her do it,” Tom stated calmly.
“But why didn’t she wait for Justin?” his brother asked.
“Perhaps you had best ask Justin that.”
Three pairs of eyes cut to Justin. “What did she tell you?” he asked, frowning.
“That you wanted to give her a slip on the shoulder,” Tom said. His voice was firm and calm.
Luke shot him a quick look. “Come, Tom,” he said. “You must have misunderstood, or else Mary did.”
“He offered her a cart block or something of the sort,” Tom stated. “She said it’s often done by noblemen, but nobleman or not, I don’t hold with offering what’s wrong to a young woman of good character. Mary ain’t no bit of muslin.”
“I offered her my protection, yes,” Justin said, his face warming. He wasn’t accustomed to enduring censure from his two oldest friends and hurried to explain. “If Mary didn’t wish a liaison with me, she had only to say so. I would still have helped her. Has it occurred to you, Tom, that if she doesn’t find this uncle of hers, London may hold much greater dangers for her than any my offer might have posed?”
“Yes it did,” Tom said, “and I got her uncle’s address before she left. She isn’t running from you, Justin. She just didn’t want to travel with you. She said if she couldn’t stay at this address, she would leave word where you could find her.” He pulled the piece of paper from his pocket and held it out. Justin took it eagerly.
A twisted smile touched his face as he read the address Merriana had written and then he crumbled the paper and tossed it into the fire.
“What’s wrong, mon ami?” de Dalmy demanded.
“Is the address not good?” Luke asked quickly.
“Oh, it’s a good address all right.” Justin laughed mirthlessly. “I know it well. It’s the address of an old gentleman who has no family and who has been a recluse for more years than I can remember. I’ve never met the fellow, but I still recognize the address. Tell me, Tom, what business do you suppose your former cook has with the Duke of Daughrity?”
Chapter 10
Merriana approached the front door of the townhouse of the Duke of Daughrity with no small amount of trepidation. The hackney ride to the duke’s residence had taken most of the small store of coins in her reticule, and she had no idea what she would do if she was refused admittance.
She had tried to make herself as presentable as possible, but she was aware that her dress was rumpled from travel and that she presented an unacceptable image by arriving at the door unaccompanied. Her hand shook a bit as she tapped with the heavy brass knocker.
The butler who answered the door did little for her self-confidence. He looked down his extremely long nose and only with a lift of his bushy eyebrows did he acknowledge her existence.
“I wish to see the Duke of Daughrity,” Merriana announced, pleased that her voice was steady even though she was shaking inside.
“The duke is not receiving,” the butler announced in a haughty voice as he started to close the door.
Merriana put out her hand to stop him. “You may tell him," she stated firmly, “that I have traveled from France to see him. My name is Merriana de Mérchan.”
A flicker in the butler’s eyes indicated that the name was familiar to him, and he hesitated.
“I feel your master would not appreciate your turning me from his door,” Merriana said, pressing her advantage. “I have news of his family that he may wish to hear.”
The butler opened the door. “You may wait in here, Miss,” he said after leading her to a small salon. “I’ll ask if His Grace will see you.”
Merriana was much too nervous to sit still while she waited. Instead, she paced the small room, praying that the duke would see her and that he would believe her story.
In less than ten minutes, the butler returned. “His Grace will see you,” he announced in sonorous tones. Then he led her down the hall and into a room where a bright fire burned in the hearth. Before it sat a man who seemed old beyond his years. His hair retained the darkness of a young man and his face was relatively unlined, but he sat slumped in a massive chair as though the weight of many years lay heavy on his frame.
Merriana sank into a curtsy. “Your Grace,” she greeted him.
“Come here by the fire, young woman, and have a seat. Daniels, please bring us some refreshments.”
The butler bowed himself out of the room while Merriana advanced to the chair indicated by the duke. She seated herself and looked at him curiously. Here was the man on whom her future rested, and she knew him not at all.
“Now then,” the duke began, “Daniels said you come from France and are a member of the de Mérchan family. He also said you have news of my family. Are you related to the late Comte de Mérchan?”
“I am,” Merriana said quietly.
“You have no look about you of the de Mérchans,” the duke stated. “I’ve yet to see one with blonde hair.”
“I know that the de Merchans are traditionally dark,” Merriana agreed. “I believe my coloring came to me through my grandmother on my father’s side.”
“And who might your father be?” the duke asked. His sharp eyes were watching her closely.
Merriana took a deep breath. “My father was the Comte de Mérchan,” she announced quietly.
If she had expected a reaction, she was disappointed. The old man’s eyelids closed slightly to hide whatever he might feel, and his voice was calm
as he asked, “A by-blow, are you?”
Merriana smiled slightly. She realized that she was supposed to be shocked, but she was not. “No, Your Grace,” she said. “I am no by-blow.”
“Then you are not a child of the Comte de Mérchan,” the duke stated. “For as I’m sure you know, his wife was my sister and she had only one child.”
“She had only one child of which the world was aware,” Merriana corrected him calmly. “In fact, I was born after she entrusted my brother to your care. As you no doubt know, soon after that my father was shot and killed by an unknown assailant. My mother always believed he was murdered by the unknown enemy who had tried in the past to kill him. According to what I’ve been told, my mother learned soon after my father’s death that she was pregnant.”
Merriana paused when the duke shifted in his chair, but he said nothing, so she pulled in a deep breath and continued.
“You know of the unrest in France,” she said. “No doubt my mother would have come to you if she had been able to leave, but by then it was too late. Besides, for reasons I don’t understand, she feared for my life if our enemy learned of my existence. Thus, she pretended to lose her grasp on reality and shut herself away in her rooms, seeing only my father’s old nurse. This wasn’t especially difficult, because the estate was in decline, and most of the servants had left anyway.
“Even after I was born, no one knew of my existence except the nurse and the chateau’s chef, a man who had sworn undying allegiance to my father when they were young men. My father had befriended him when he was a young pot boy and had then helped him realize a dream by sending him to Paris to train as a chef.”
The duke cleared his throat and Merriana realized that his forehead was furrowed with a deep frown. “And just how, young lady,” he said, his tone grim, “did you learn about all of these occurrences that took place before you were born?”
Merriana moistened her lips. “If you will bear with me, Your Grace, I’m coming to that.”
He set his lips in a firm line. “Oh, very well. Continue.”
Merriana breathed out a soft sigh. “When I was about four years old, my mother realized she was dying and sent for the chef. She begged him to care for me until it was possible to send me to you. He agreed, and we left the chateau on a dark night and traveled to Paris. I have vague recollections of my mother and the estate where we once lived, but my clearest recollections are of the inn where Jacques found work as a chef. He raised me there but was always careful to emphasize that my mother had placed me in his care so that he could seek a means of sending me to England to safety. Unfortunately, by this time, many were trying to flee. Because of the blockade, travel was difficult and the costs were quite high. Finally, after many years, he managed to make enough contacts and save enough money to smuggle me out of France.”
Merriana’s story was interrupted by the arrival of tea and a variety of small cakes. Since she had not eaten since her small meal at the Drake and Cock the evening before, she was not averse to taking time to pour the tea and to help herself to four of the larger cakes. The duke drank only a cup of tea, watching her closely. He quickly dismissed the butler and, as soon as Merriana had finished her tea, bade her to continue her story. “For this is a fantastic tale,” he told her, “and not one easy to believe. Am I to accept your word for this without any sort of proof?”
“Do you remember, Your Grace, a ball that was given for your sister a few days before she went to France with her new husband?”
“Of course I remember such a ball,” the duke said immediately. “It was held in this very house. What of it?”
Merriana reached into her reticule and pulled out a small package wrapped in a scrap of muslin. “At that ball,” she continued, “you gave my mother a locket and told her if she ever had need of you, she was to send you the locket and that you would come to her aid.” Merriana unwrapped the package and held out to the duke a very plain golden locket on a thin gold chain.
“On the night my mother sent me and our chef away, she gave him this locket and told him its story. She told him that if I was ever reunited with you, I was to give you the locket along with a message. She said that even though she would be beyond your help, she asked your assistance for her daughter, Merriana de Mérchan. Only knowing that you would care for me, she said, allowed her to face her death without reservations.”
The duke examined the locket in silence for a few seconds, and when he looked again at Merriana, tears were streaming down his cheeks. “I loved your mother,” he said quietly, “as I have loved no one on this earth. She was the joy of my life, and I was devastated when she fell in love with the Comte de Mérchan, for I knew he would take her to France to live, far away from me. Even then, a wise man could see the rumblings of unease in France. But I never let her know my misgivings, except for the night of the ball, when I gave her this locket. I remember that she kissed me for caring so much for her and laughed at my fears, but she kept the locket.
“When she sent her son to me to keep him safe, I begged her to return to England because the situation in France was deteriorating daily, but she wouldn’t leave your father. When I heard of your father’s death, I moved heaven and earth to get her out of France, but by then it was too late. There was no way to save her then. I am glad, at least, that she had the opportunity to know you for a few years before she died. You must have been a great comfort to her when the comte was dead and her son away in England.”
He sniffed once, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. He smiled sadly before continuing. “I loved your brother, my child, as I would have my own son, and I raised him to the best of my ability. But as he grew older and the wars between England and France accelerated, I could see that he was being torn apart. He loved France and he loved England, and he didn’t know how he could be of benefit to either. Then, when that upstart Napoleon began growing in power, Charles found a way to help one of his countries. He volunteered to help in England’s secret service. I was terrified that I’d lose him too, but I hope I’m wise enough to know when to let a man follow his own heart. Now I don’t even know if he lives. Do you have any word of him, my child?”
Merriana shook her head. “No, I don’t. I knew, of course, that the daring De la Nuit was my brother, for the underground in Paris was well aware of his identity when the authorities were not. But he had not been heard from in some time when I left Paris. At least there was no word that he’d been captured, so we aren’t without hope.”
“That’s some comfort,” the duke acknowledged. “Now tell me more about your life. We have a number of years to catch up on.”
Merriana told him of her rather uneventful life in a Paris inn prior to her escape from France. She also told him of working at the Drake and Cock and of Tom and Luke who had befriended her. “And I must write to them immediately,” she informed her uncle, “to let them know that I am safe. I fear that they may be extremely worried about me.”
As they talked, Merriana noticed that the duke’s shoulders straightened and a light came to his eyes that hadn’t been there when she entered the room. He was soon talking of balls and parties to introduce her to London society.
“One of my cousins was recently widowed,” he stated in a strong voice, “and although she has excellent ton, she was left without a feather to fly with. I’ll invite her here as your chaperone and she’ll be in charge of helping you choose the clothing and everything else you may need. Do you ride?”
“I do. The innkeeper kept a horse to rent to travelers, and Jacques persuaded him to teach me to ride. Although my opportunities were limited, I loved it.”
“Then I’ll purchase a horse for you. Yes, and a phaeton and matched pair. My dear girl, I intend to see that you have everything you’ve been deprived of for so many years. I feel ten—no twenty—years younger already. Now, we had better get some rest, for there’s a great deal to do and we’ll need to get started first thing in the morning.”
The next
morning, the duke’s cup overflowed. He received a message that had been sent some ten days before by his nephew, Charles, stating that he was alive and recuperating from a slight accident. He sincerely hoped, he wrote, to be back with his beloved uncle within four weeks.
Chapter 11
Ten weeks passed before Charles, the Comte de Mérchan, was reunited with his uncle. Charles’s leg had not healed as well as the doctor had hoped, and he walked with a cane and a slight limp. Still, although a bit weak, he felt healthy enough when he knocked one chilly February morning at his uncle’s door in Grosvenor Square.
Daniels, his uncle’s butler of thirty-five years, unbent enough to welcome Charles home with what was for him almost unseemly warmth, informing the comte that the duke had been watching for him daily for a sennight.
“Aye, the devil was in it, Daniels,” Charles declared with a grin. “I had to hire a post-chaise, and slower slugs I’ve never seen. Still and all, I’m here. How is Uncle Sylvester?”
A brief smile lightened Daniels’ expression. “His Grace is extremely well, sir. I believe you will find him in the library. Shall I announce you?”
“Lud, no. Not since he’s been expecting me daily for so long. No doubt he’ll wish to dress me down for being so slow.”
With that cheerful comment, Charles took himself off to the library, where he found his uncle sitting behind a desk scribbling on a sheet of parchment. The older man jumped to his feet and dashed around the desk, holding out his hand for a brief shake before he pulled Charles into a warm embrace.
“About time you showed your face,” his uncle stated in a scolding tone while blinking back tears. “But what’s this? A cane? How bad is it?”
Charles quickly assured his uncle that the cane was temporary, a fact he sincerely hoped was true. Then, when the duke continued to frown in concern, Charles went so far as to demonstrate that he could walk reasonably well even without the use of his cane. “It just eases my way a bit,” he said with a quick shrug. “But enough about me. I can tell that you’re in high alt. What’s occurred to bring color to your face and that twinkle to your eye?”
The Mysterious Merriana Page 9
