by Rayne, Sarah
‘Would it be sufficient—what did you call it?—resonance?’ asked Toby, looking at Willoughby.
‘Well, it might.’ Willoughby chewed his lower lip and thought about it. ‘We’ll try,’ he said at last. ‘There’s a piano next door; I’ll see if there’s anyone to trundle it in.’
‘We’ll all trundle it in,’ said Toby, thankful to have got over this incomprehensible, but clearly important, difficulty.
The second piano, duly trundled in and tried out in chorus with the main piano and the violin, was pronounced to add more than enough resonance; in fact, said Willoughby, after they finished and the room was being reset for Vesta Tilley, he did not know when he had heard quite such good quality of sound.
‘Did you not notice Toby playing all those wrong notes?’ asked Frank innocently, and was hushed by Toby and the violinist, and carried off by them to the Pickled Lobster Pot for Dover sole washed down with copious draughts of beer. This light-hearted and entirely trustworthy friendship was something else Toby would miss for the next couple of weeks.
He arrived in good time at Waterloo Station, although he was slightly daunted to discover that for this first leg of the expedition he would be sharing a compartment with one of the biblical-bearded patriarchs from the Bloomsbury house and the imperious, black-clad old lady with the grubby diamonds.
‘I am Ilena Osapinsky,’ said the lady, proffering her hand as Toby stowed his luggage on the rack. ‘My title is baroness.’
‘Is it? I’m so pleased, I love titles,’ said Toby, who never normally gave them a thought.
‘You are Mr Chance, I think?’ pursued the baroness. ‘The son of the former music-hall dancer. A lady who danced with a fan to aid the illusion.’
This was said with such icy disdain that Toby instantly said with great enthusiasm, ‘Oh, you’ve heard of her! I’m so pleased. Yes, she did use a fan in her act—in fact we still have one of her fans, mounted in the drawing room in a glass case.’ This was completely untrue: none of Flora’s fans had survived, even though Minnie Bean had apparently tried washing one of them in warm water and soda crystals.
‘You are probably more accustomed to first-class travel?’ said the baroness rather sneeringly, as Toby looked round the carriage.
‘Yes I am, but I believe the lunch they’re serving in first-class is Brown Windsor Soup and roast mutton,’ said Toby. ‘So on that score alone I’m very glad not to be there today. I daresay the railway company didn’t foresee the possibility of such overwhelming heat during an English June.’
The baroness appeared to lose interest. ‘Is the woman, Alicia Darke, not accompanying us on the journey?’ she demanded of the patriarch.
‘Apparently she is not.’
‘I am glad of it,’ said the baroness. ‘For she would be a hindrance to the cause, ogling the men constantly and distracting them. She has long since wanted Petrovnic for a lover, you know that, I suppose?’
‘I did not know it.’ The patriarch looked interested. ‘But if she wants him, she will have him.’
‘Would you care to lay a wager on that, Ivor?’
‘Such a liaison would not last a fortnight,’ said Ivor. And then, ‘I am told a fortnight is her usual time for wearing out a lover.’
‘Indeed? Then today’s young men have not the stamina that men possessed in my own youth.’ She sent the startled Toby a look in which assessment and curiosity were equally blended.
‘I will take your wager,’ said Ivor, having thought it over. ‘A sovereign?’
‘You think small,’ said Ilena. ‘Ten sovereigns, or I do not trouble myself in the matter.’
‘Ten sovereigns, then.’ Ivor took out a pocketbook and made a note of it. ‘But whoever claims to win must in some way provide proof.’
‘The proof will be a mere bagatelle,’ said the baroness, waving one bedizened hand. ‘I shall provide for you the proof.’
Toby was so entranced by all this, he almost missed Sonja’s arrival. But he saw her come pelting along the platform, pink-cheeked with excitement and exertion, and leapt out again to help her, pleased to discover she would be in the same compartment.
As the train began to chug its way out of the station, he leaned his head back against the seat and began to fit a tune to the rhythmic clatter of the wheels. He had brought a thick notebook and several sharp pencils with him; he might get a song or two out of this. But no songs came from the humming of the train’s wheels, nor even from the overnight stop they made just outside Paris—the second would be in Strasbourg. Toby had half thought there might have been some romance and some colour to be got from these places, but there was not.
The romance came when they crossed into the land that once had been a patchwork of petty dukedoms, ruled by palatines and margraves—the countries that clustered at the heart of central Europe: tiny sovereignties with rich threads of poetry woven through their histories. Forbidden amours in Bavaria and Bohemia—morganatic marriages and thrones renounced in the name of love. Mysterious suicide pacts in hunting lodges in Mayerling… Toby had not been alive in 1889, the year of the Mayerling scandal, but most children of his generation knew the story of the Crown Prince and his mistress and their mysterious deaths in the house deep in the forest. It was romantic and tragic and had all the elements of fairytale and it was a story that stuck in the mind.
As they left Germany and Austria behind, and began on the last leg of the journey into Budapest and Sarajevo, he remembered the sharp hard influence of Germany’s Prussian overlords and that this was now a land ruled by a man who had spent the last few years strengthening his armies and building up his navy, and who regarded Britain with deep hostility and jealousy.
There were fitful glimpses of the Thames beyond the window of Sir Harold Chance’s room in Westminster, and the room was cool and shady. After the heat of the streets, Alicia Darke was glad of this, even though she was wearing the thinnest of her silk gowns. She was also wearing silk beneath the gown, lace-trimmed and sheer because although she was not meeting anyone who might be counted as a potential lover this afternoon, it was as well to be always prepared.
Hal Chance could not be regarded in the category of a potential lover, not because he was a good twenty years older than Alicia, but because he was known to be too happily married to be seducible. But any man who had stirred up the disapproval of the entire Foreign Office by marrying a music-hall performer—and had then overcome the ensuing scandal with equanimity—would be intriguing. Alicia, meeting him for the first time, found him attractive and was instantly aware of the latent power under the urbane exterior.
But there was no point in wasting energy on the unattainable, so she took the chair offered, accepted the suggestion of a cup of tea, then embarked on her reason for the visit.
‘Sir Hal, I am Alicia Darke and I am a friend of your son’s. He is a remarkable young man and it’s because of him that I’m here.’
‘I think Toby is remarkable as well,’ said Hal Chance. ‘How can I help you, Mrs Darke?’
Alicia studied him, then said, ‘I don’t usually yield to the promptings of my better self, but I am doing so now. I believe Toby could be in considerable danger from a specific person. And I believe you could be in danger as well.’
She had expected him to be startled, but he merely looked wary. ‘Mrs Darke, I am occasionally warned of a number of dangers, most of which prove to be false or imaginary. What kind of danger is yours?’
‘I’m not a crank or a fanatic,’ said Alicia, stung. ‘And I don’t know precisely what form the danger will take, but… Have you heard of an organization called Tranz?’
She thought the wary look increased, but he said noncommittally, ‘I have heard of it. Are you a member of Tranz?’
‘I was,’ said Alicia. ‘I wasn’t especially sympathetic to its aims, although I will admit I was very sympathetic indeed to its leader. But initially it seemed a new diversion.’ She gave a small shrug. ‘Life can become tedious at times—one seeks for new exci
tements. But now I think there is something sinister about Tranz. Do you know any of its members, Sir Hal? Baroness Ilena Osapinsky for instance?’
‘I know of her.’
‘Is that the Foreign Office discreetly keeping watch on suspicious foreigners?’
He smiled, but only said, ‘What nationality is she claiming at the moment? It’s generally either Romanian or Russian.’
‘Whatever it is, she currently conveys the impression of being more used to travelling in a troika across the Russian Steppes with outriders, than of rattling about London in hansom cabs,’ said Alicia tartly, and he smiled again, this time with Toby’s smile.
‘She’s an extraordinary old woman,’ said Hal. ‘I’m using the word “old” advisedly, because she could be any age between fifty and a hundred. The title varies between baroness and countess.’ He looked at Alicia thoughtfully. ‘My department would like to know about Tranz,’ he said. ‘And if there really is some kind of danger to my son, then I would like to know about it.’
‘I might be exaggerating it or misinterpreting it,’ said Alicia, ‘but I don’t think I am. If I’m right, your son, and possibly you also, stand in danger from Tranz’s leader. A man called Petrovnic. Do you know of him?’
‘I don’t think so. The gentleman for whom you felt sympathy?’
‘Did you know your son has recently become a member of Tranz?’ said Alicia, choosing to ignore the last remark.
A snap of anger showed in his eyes, and his jaw tightened slightly. ‘I didn’t know that,’ he said. ‘Although I can see that it might attract him. Fighting the cause of downtrodden people, rebelling against the old order— But Toby should know better, damn him.’
‘You’ll have to direct your anger at me,’ said Alicia. ‘I was the one who enlisted Toby in Tranz. I did it because Petrovnic wanted him. At the time I thought it was simply that Petrovnic believed it would add to Tranz’s standing to have the son of a Foreign Office official in the group. It seemed a reasonable assumption. And if Petrovnic wanted Toby, I wanted Petrovnic—I was prepared to do anything for him.’ She paused. ‘I’m being very frank with you, Sir Hal.’
‘It will go no further. And now?’
‘This will sound impossibly dramatic,’ said Alicia, ‘but it’s perfectly true. A few nights ago Petrovnic talked to me about using Toby as a weapon.’
‘A weapon? Against the government?’
‘I thought at first he meant that,’ said Alicia, ‘but then I began to suspect—more than suspect—it was personal. I think he intends to use Toby against you in some specific fashion. Hatred is a strong word, but I think Petrovnic hates you. Could that be possible?’
‘I know a little about Tranz,’ said Hal slowly, ‘but I don’t know this Mr Petrovnic.’
‘Petrovnic isn’t his real name. That’s something else I discovered recently.’
‘It’s not necessarily a crime to use a different name. Do you know his real name?’
‘I do. It’s Anton Reznik,’ said Alicia.
The pronouncing of a name should not have produced such an extreme reaction, but Hal Chance turned white and made as if to clutch the edges of the desk to prevent himself falling forward. Alicia, remembering the tray of tea brought in earlier, poured a cup out, sugared it liberally, and thrust it into his hand. He drank it gratefully. As he set the cup down, his hand shook slightly, but when he finally spoke, his voice was perfectly steady.
‘Anton Reznik,’ he said, very softly. ‘My God, so he’s back…’ Then, meeting her eyes, he said. ‘I’m very grateful to you for telling me this. For—for warning me. Reznik and I met—very briefly—many years ago. There was considerable bad feeling between us—a matter that was never really resolved. So he’s leading that squalid group of political intriguers now, is he? And calling himself by another name.’
There was no need to describe to Hal Chance the means Alicia had employed to find out about Petrovnic: how she had talked to the self-styled elders of Tranz—to that bearded old gossip Ivor, who had known Petrovnic for so many years, to the flamboyant and haughty Ilena Osapinsky who would trade cupboard skeletons with the whole world. There was certainly no need to explain how Alicia herself had gone to Petrovnic’s house when she knew he would be out, imperiously telling the manservant she would leave a note, then searching bureau and desk drawers while he was out of the room. She had not really known what she hoped to find that day, but she had wanted to find something that could be used against Petrovnic, because she could not bear Toby to be at the mercy of that burning hatred she had seen in his eyes. And perhaps a little because she wanted her own revenge against a man who had rejected her… Yes, that had to be admitted as a motive, as well, if only in her private thoughts.
Hal was saying, ‘Mrs Darke, whatever Reznik is planning, Toby’s safe for the moment. He’s in Paris for a few days with his music partner—’ He stopped. ‘Dear God,’ he said softly, ‘he’s not in Paris, is he? He’s with Tranz—with Reznik.’
‘He’s joined Anton’s protest rally against the Archduke Franz-Ferdinand,’ said Alicia. ‘They left two days ago. By tomorrow night or the night after that your son will be in Sarajevo.’
When you have been married to someone for more than twenty-five years, you cannot help knowing if that person is troubled. Accordingly, after Flora and Hal had finished dinner that evening, Flora said, ‘Hal, what’s the matter?’
The direct question clearly took him slightly by surprise, but he said almost at once, ‘Nothing’s the matter.’
This was more or less the response Flora had expected. Hal was regarded by colleagues as remarkably modern in his outlook, but he still had a slightly old-fashioned belief that ladies should be protected. Flora had come up against this belief a number of times over the years and she found it by turns endearing, exasperating, or worrying, depending on the circumstances. Tonight was one of the occasions when she found it worrying, so she said, ‘I know quite well there’s something wrong, so you may as well tell me. Unless it’s state secrets, in which case I’ll understand.’
‘It’s not state secrets,’ said Hal. He hesitated, then seemed to reach a decision. ‘It’s— Flora, it’s Anton Reznik. He’s come back.’
The name dropped into the room like a stone. Reznik. Reznik. The twins. That dark dual personality, that eerie impression of a single mind using two bodies… But it was important not to give way to silly emotion or hysterics which would only give Hal something else to worry about, so Flora reminded herself that she had dealt with rowdy music-hall audiences with gusto and later faced cabinet ministers with aplomb. But when she spoke her voice betrayed her by its unsteadiness.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Fairly sure. He’s apparently involved in some sort of shady-sounding political organization—I hadn’t better tell you any more about that side of things.’
‘We always knew it was possible that he might one day come back. Has he threatened you?’
‘No.’ He reached for her hand. ‘But I think he’s planning to harm Toby.’
A few minutes earlier Flora had successfully beaten down hysteria. This time she thought she would not be able to do so. Toby. If anything happens to Toby I’ll die, she thought. Not even Hal could make up for losing Toby. She clenched her hands in her lap fighting for mastery, and presently was able to say, ‘That’s surely not very likely. Their paths wouldn’t even cross. They wouldn’t move in the same circles.’ But there’s the Tarleton, said her mind. That would be a link. If Reznik wanted to get at Toby it would be easy to do it through the Tarleton—to scrape up a meeting. She said, ‘How do you know about this?’
‘A friend of Toby’s—a lady—who was worried about him, came to see me.’
‘It would be bound to be a lady,’ said Flora, trying for a lighter note. ‘But Toby’s in Paris at the moment, so he’s surely out of Reznik’s reach—’ She stopped, and looked at him. ‘Hal, is Toby in Paris?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Hal reluctantly. ‘I thin
k he’s become mixed up with—with Reznik’s political group. They’ve gone on some wild journey into Eastern Europe.’
‘But Toby wouldn’t be fooled by Reznik or by some political organization,’ said Flora, trying to ignore the growing panic by focussing on practicalities. ‘He’d see through any attempt to—to lure him into a trap. Or would he?’
‘If the trap was sufficiently attractive, he might not care,’ said Hal. ‘And if the lady herself was equally attractive…’
‘Oh God yes, that’s true. Hal, if that’s brandy you’re pouring, would you pour some for me as well? I know it’s an unladylike drink, but—’
‘But when did you worry about being ladylike.’ He smiled as he handed her the glass, acknowledging the small private joke they had always had. ‘Flora, I may have to find a way of dealing with Reznik. I mean an unorthodox way. If it was a question of Toby’s safety or yours, then there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to safeguard you both.’
‘And Toby? If he really has gone on some wild jaunt somewhere…’
‘It depends on the somewhere,’ said Hal. ‘But I think he’ll be all right.’
Flora sipped the brandy, grateful for the small core of warmth it set up inside her. ‘Nearly thirty years ago Anton Reznik vowed to destroy you,’ she said. ‘I’ve never forgotten that.’
‘Neither have I,’ said Hal. ‘I don’t think either of us will ever forget what happened that night.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
1887
‘I DON’T THINK EITHER of us will ever forget what happened on Monday night,’ said Hal, three days after the Reznik twins’ rape attempt on Flora. ‘But I do think we need to make sure those two villains didn’t cause any damage or any trouble. If I were to call on Rinaldi this afternoon, would he let me into the Tarleton? Better still, would you come with me? I’m not sure exactly where he lives anyway.’
