by May Burnett
In stark contrast to his spouse Mr. Rallis was curt and morose, no doubt regretting the favour he had done at his cousin’s bidding. Roger for his part was eager to hear what Colonel Mossley had to say for himself. From what he had learned, Captain Kinninmont must have been betrayed by his commanding officer.
Chapter 29
“My felicitations,” Duncan was greeted at breakfast the next morning by James Ellsworthy. “You have won the hand of a young lady very dear to me, who deserves a husband’s complete devotion.”
“She shall not lack it.” Duncan put down his teacup. “I can still hardly believe my luck. It is a pity, however, that her family is so far away, and likely to deplore the match.”
“I was going to talk to you about that,” James said. “Alphonse is my close friend since our first year at Eton. I have to write to him, to give him the news, and would like your views on certain aspects before I do so.”
“I am of course entirely at your disposal.” Mr. Ellsworthy had been kindly disposed from the first. If he could make a good impression on him, things might go more smoothly with the Marquis. Should he write to the man also, introducing himself as his future son-in-law? He had best consult Monique on the proper etiquette.
“After breakfast, then, in the library?” James made no further reference to the matter while eating his eggs and quail, which he washed down with the new-fangled coffee rather than tea.
“Monique is a treasure,” the older man said when they were private soon afterwards, his expression serious. “I hope you are aware of your responsibility to make her happy.”
“In my experience,” Duncan said, “happiness is not easily conferred on another person, if they should be melancholy by nature. Fortunately I have not noticed any such tendencies in Monique. She was cheerful despite the dangers and difficulties we faced, and she puts a bright face upon the necessity of this misalliance.”
“Just so,” James said, “but while the world may see it as unequal, I don’t consider your match a tragedy, and suggest you stop thinking or talking of it in such terms. If you truly appreciate and cherish your future wife, as I believe is the case, she should have little reason to repine. Most of the noble sprigs straining after Monique were more interested in her fortune and blue blood, than the lovely girl she has become.”
“I fear I too shall be taken for a fortune-hunter, in view of the disparity of our circumstances,” Duncan confessed. “I can bear it, as long as she knows it is not true.”
“Do you have any idea of Monique’s wealth?” James asked. “In pounds, if it were converted? Some of it is in French property, but the rest is in secure papers and coin.”
“I don’t need to know the details,” Duncan said, instinctively repulsed by the notion of discussing her money. “There must be settlements, of course.”
James smiled. “Would you be willing to leave half of the income to Monique’s sole use and disposal, to use and bequest as sees fit?”
Duncan did not need to think about it. “Certainly. If that would help show her family that I am not merely interested in her wealth, I welcome the suggestion.” Besides, they would never need to argue about money, a subject that led to strife in all too many families.
“Excellent. I do believe you should take an active interest in her fortune once you are married, however. Your commercial knowledge may be useful to Monique and your future children. She has been carefully sheltered from her parents’ business interests, too much so, I have sometimes thought. Her late grandmother, the old Marquise, wanted the girl brought up in the most aristocratic tradition.”
“You are taking the betrothal with surprising equanimity,” Duncan observed. “I cannot imagine that your friend the Marquis will be pleased by it. You are not upset on his behalf?”
“No. He won’t be overjoyed, but Alphonse is easy-going. If you and Monique are happy together, and give him grandchildren, you will win him over soon enough. His wife Celia manages breweries she inherited from her maternal grandparents, and he lets her and even helps out on occasion. It would be different if his mother were still alive; she could not abide mixing blue and red blood.”
“I am glad that Monique is of age,” Duncan said. “At least I am not robbing the cradle. Indeed, in some respects she is more mature and worldly than I.”
“That’s only natural, when you consider the life she has led, including her time at court. Don’t let it worry you. I think you will do well enough together.”
“I shall do my best not to disappoint you, or her.”
“When Monique was very small, her father and I swore an oath that we would not interfere with our children’s choice of spouse. I wonder if Alphonse still remembers that vow? If necessary I shall remind him. Don’t worry about her family, your job is to be kind and faithful to Monique, and give her vigorous children. It is not healthy for the same families to intermarry generation after generation, and her mother was already over-bred and weak. You on the other hand look sound and healthy.”
Duncan was a little taken aback at this view of the matter, as though he were a prize steer. “So are a great many other men fit and strong. If I understand correctly, your advice is not to be too humble, but consider instead what I can offer to Monique, how I can make her happy despite all gossip?”
“Of course. Affection, loyalty and fidelity are not to be sneezed at; most of the puppies salivating after Monique’s hand would consider it their right to maintain a mistress on her money, in France that is practically expected. A title is not necessarily a guarantee of happiness. And don’t forget to consider what will make you happy. Now that you’ll soon be rich, and have renounced your former profession, what do you want to do with your life? Consider and discuss it with Monique. Marriage is the art of compromise, in such a way that neither is permanently unhappy.”
Duncan nodded. Ellsworthy was right – he needed to consult with Monique about these questions, but first he had to consider what he himself wanted.
Could he return to his army career? Buy another commission in a better regiment? Did he want to, if the rumours were proved to be mere fabrications and his honour re-established?
No. The answer that came to him was as immediate as it was absolute. He had given his best to the army, seven years of his life, but his loyalty had been betrayed, and not valued. Trust once broken could never be the same, mend it as you might. Enough was enough.
Besides, Monique would not like it. He shuddered at the vision of her ever meeting Lady Rowena Mossley. No, he could not and would not subject the woman he loved to such an existence.
His army life was done. When he met Monique it had still felt like a raw wound, a tragedy hardly absorbed by his stunned mind. Now he could let go of his past aspirations without regret, and without looking back. He had found something infinitely more precious, that night on the dark road.
***
In Verena’s sitting room, Monique came dangerously close to quarrelling with Violet. While Verena and Amy had proffered their best wishes with expressions of only slight doubt, Violet did not hide her strong disapproval of what she termed a thoroughly unsuitable match.
“How would you like it if I called the man you loved and planned to marry a heartless fortune-hunter?” Monique asked at last. “You may be older and several stone bigger, but give me some credit, please! I have been up to snuff long enough to know what I’m doing, and to judge the character of my future husband. You barely know him, and yet presume to speculate on his faults. Well, I don’t expect perfection from him any more than I do from you, or my other friends. What I expect, and receive, is his unstinting support and trust.”
After this speech there was an uncomfortable silence. Violet looked hurt. “I only want what’s best for you, Monique. Can’t you see that?”
“At this point, trying to dissuade her from the match is not doing Monique any favours,” Verena said. “Whatever we might think or fear, we have to make the best of it.”
It was not the full endorseme
nt Monique could have wished, but it would do until her friend learned to appreciate Duncan better.
“Uncle James and Aunt Charlotte don’t seem to mind half as much as you,” Amy pointed out to Violet, whose chin was still held at a stubborn angle. “If they think the match will succeed, with all their experience of the world, we should be content at least to wait and see.”
“My parents would let me marry a chimney sweep, or Roger a milkmaid,” Violet said impatiently. “I wager your parents are less sanguine about the matter.”
“They have not raised any objections, and it is hardly their place,” Verena said calmly. “Monique is of age and legally entitled to marry whoever she wants.” Monique was glad that somebody remembered that fact. “She’s not some innocent fresh from the schoolroom. She will manage.”
“Indeed I shall,” she said, impatient to end this conversation. “Violet, I am sorry you feel so pessimistic, as I had been hoping to ask all three of you to be my bridesmaids. But if you would rather not, then I quite understand.”
“You are already thinking of the wedding?” Amy asked. “Famous! I have long experience as a bridesmaid, and will happily be one again.”
Violet and Verena looked at each other ruefully. Were they wondering why they were still bridesmaids when the younger Monique got married?
“From the most recent news,” she explained, “my parents will be absent for several more months, at the very least, perhaps for as much as a whole year. I see no point in waiting for them. My intention is to have the banns called as soon as that ridiculous accusation of robbery is cleared up. Uncle James can give me away, and arrange the financial settlements with Duncan.” She had thought hard about this decision, but waiting for her parents’ return for at least half a year? No.
“Are you not worried,” Verena said slowly, “that people will talk, will say you had to marry quickly?”
Monique shrugged. “They will talk anyway, let them wonder. I plan to ignore the gossip, and might as well start now.”
“Are you sure? Your parents will be surprised when they return and find you a married lady, perhaps already with child,” Amy warned. Violet only shook her head in mute protest, but said nothing more.
“My parents chose to leave for such a long journey, and leave me behind. Of course I’ll write to them with the news, so they will have time to come to terms with the situation before they return. When they do, they will see that we are happy together.” Her stepmother would like Duncan at once, she hoped, and her father was pragmatic enough to accept what he could not change.
“If you are determined to do this, I suppose I could be a bridesmaid once again,” Violet said grudgingly. “Lord knows that Verena and I are getting old hands at it.”
“You had plenty of chances to be the bride yourself,” Monique reminded her friend. “I hope you will yet find a man who suits your notions, and does not bore you. Be glad for me, that I have done so.”
“I only want you to be happy, shrimp. You know that.”
Monique nodded. She did know it, but now she would soon be a married lady she had to assert herself, make them understand that she was the final judge of her actions. They would probably call her shrimp even when they were old ladies, and she could live with that, but she would not tolerate any disparagement of Duncan. He was hers now, and she would ensure that he was treated with respect by one and all.
Chapter 30
On the way back to Portsmouth Roger debated whether he should confront Colonel Mossley before departing the city. It would put the officer on guard, but he felt a strong curiosity how the officer would react to some pointed questions.
Could Colonel Mossley be dangerous to Roger? Upon consideration, he was inclined to doubt it. It was one thing to hound a single young Scot of modest birth out of the army, and try to kill him in such a way that the regiment would not be implicated; to do the same to a man of Roger’s connections would be a very different and far more chancy crime. The success of a murderous plot must lie, to a great extent, in the element of surprise, and Roger was forewarned. Besides, even unsuspecting and unwitting of the plot against him, Kinninmont too was very much alive. The Captain must have a highly effective guardian angel or nine lives, like a cat.
After partaking of a leisurely lunch with Geoffrey Pauling, who was about to head back to London after his duty visit, Roger sent his card to the regimental headquarters with a request for an interview. The messenger returned with an appointment for eleven thirty the next morning.
That evening Roger once again played cards with the young officers in the club to which they had introduced him the previous night. He was glad that his parents would never see him in this sleazy environment. Kinninmont was well out of this place, though it might take him a while to appreciate the fact. Roger avoided any indiscreet questions and merely played the bored and spoiled young man with too much time on his hands. An easy role that skirted depressingly close to the truth.
***
The next morning, Roger dressed carefully for his interview with the Colonel, and arrived on the dot. A harried-looking Sergeant told him to wait in a small room with two dilapidated chairs. Roger preferred to stand, but as the minutes passed with snail-like pace, he grew increasingly impatient and annoyed. If letting him cool his heels was a ploy to demoralise him, it would not work. Roger only grew angry and more determined.
Over forty minutes passed before the Sergeant returned, apologetic and distracted. “I am sorry, Sir, your meeting cannot take place today. You will have to return some other time, the Colonel is occupied with important matters and won’t be able to receive you.”
“But he is here in Portsmouth? What is the matter?” Roger asked. The Sergeant acted as though war had broken out overnight. Surely not like this, without notice?
“I am not at liberty to say. This way, Sir.” Roger was ushered out far more quickly than he had been led inside.
Well. A whole morning wasted. He walked the short distance to the inn puzzling over his treatment. If the Colonel had the slightest idea what had brought him to Portsmouth, perhaps through an urgent message from Mr. Rallis, a refusal to see him was logical. However, the Sergeant’s manner suggested that far more important matters were afoot.
Roger would find out, he vowed, before leaving this port and returning to Amberley. Could the Colonel’s business have anything to do with his own quest? And would he learn anything useful, if he were to call upon Lady Rowena this afternoon? He did not know where she lived, but could easily find out.
In the hall of the inn his eye fell on the unmistakeable bulk of Mr. Hendrickson, the investigator his father had employed so often over the years.
“Mr. Roger!” the older man said, noticing his urgent wave. “I’m glad to see you. Let’s share a tankard in the bar room.”
It was already past noon, so Roger ordered an assortment of meats to accompany their drinks. “I assume you came down upon the same errand that brought me here, the persecution of Captain Kinninmont?”
“Yes and no.” Hendrickson, a bull of a man with a red face and greying hair that still showed traces of its original blond, took a deep drought of his ale. “Good quality,” he said approvingly, wiping his mouth. “There has been another development. His lordship your uncle Pell has written to a friend at the War Office, and they have sent down inspectors for a surprise audit of the regiment. They’ll demand to see the books and all receipts,” he added with a wink.
Comprehension dawned. “Already? No wonder the Colonel declined to see me just now.” He described his unceremonious ejection from the regimental headquarters. “I don’t have much experience with such inspections, but I assume that they will find whatever Captain Kinninmont said was amiss?”
“Oh, certainly. When they act upon a tip like that, pointing exactly at the problem, they are sure to discover all. The trick is to make them look in the first place. Sometimes the guilty parties are too influential for the inspectors to be sent. With this regiment, however, it was
a foregone conclusion that Lord Pell’s contact could order an investigation, and all was done so quickly the Colonel’s possible allies would not have had time to weigh in.”
“Good.” The only safety for Duncan Kinninmont lay in opening the books and arresting the culprits. Once their guilt was established, they no longer had any reason to silence him. “That means that my work here is done, I suppose.” He told Hendrickson about his success with Mr. Rallis. “That Rallis is Colonel Mossley’s first cousin cannot possibly be a coincidence,” he concluded. “I don’t know how much the Colonel told him, but it was clear that Rallis knew at least part of what was going on. He must have been aware all along that the accusation of robbery was a complete fabrication. Fortunately his wife was there, and he did not want her to keep asking awkward questions, or find out that he had compromised his office.”
“The main thing is that the arrest warrant against Captain Kinninmont is lifted, and his name cleared,” Hendrickson said. “From what your father wrote, I gather he is taking an unusual interest in that young man.” He swallowed another mouthful of ale. “Seems to have taken a liking to him.”
“Kinninmont is all right,” Roger confirmed, “and certainly undeserving of the callous treatment meted out to him by his erstwhile regiment.”
“I’ll find out if there is anything else to the matter, and what the result of the inspection is, and report to your father at Amberley,” Hendrickson assured him. “If this Mr. Rallis should forget to withdraw his arrest order, I’ll remind him that his own role does not bear close investigation. A nasty business all around.”
“Indeed,” Roger concurred. “Makes me glad I am not an officer myself.”
Hendrickson shrugged. “There’s bad apples in every barrel, unless it’s regularly emptied and picked through,” he said philosophically. “Human nature, that’s what it is, Mr. Roger. I have seen too much to be surprised by anything much, these days.”
