Neither Lady Sutton nor Mrs. Montgomery moved a muscle. Neither altered her expression of kindly interest. Yet I could feel it as their attention sharpened. They came on point, as a good hunting dog does when it scents its quarry.
“Indeed?” Lady Sutton was all puzzlement. Diplomatic life must demand considerable theatrical skill. One would never have guessed that she knew precisely what I meant. I could not be sure if it was the shawl or my imagination, but I had no doubt that she was dissembling. “What is the nature of the misunderstanding?”
This is no opera. But if I have ever had an aria, it was the performance I gave there by the fire. In halting phrases, I told them the truth, or as much of our mission as I dared confide. My husband and my cousin had been abducted in circumstances as alarming as could well be conceived. And base rumor—I did not name the source of the base rumor—held that my husband had eloped with my cousin. The authorities would not take matters seriously unless they were made to do so—and who could possibly perform such a miracle but the most influential representative the British Crown possessed?
Lady Sutton and Mrs. Montgomery were the ideal audience. At first I could not tell if they shared a natural reserve or if they were prepared to give me enough rope to hang myself. Accordingly, I delivered my account as concisely as I could. I did it with all the stoicism I could muster, ending with the broadest hints that the Duke of Wellington had a keen interest in Mountjoy’s precise whereabouts.
Once I finished, a silence fell, but it was not an uncompanionable one. Lady Sutton and Mrs. Montgomery exchanged meaningful glances. I composed myself and waited for the verdict.
Mrs. Montgomery spoke first. “You are on your wedding journey, I think?” When I nodded, she went on. “We have friends in common in Paris, I believe. You and Lord Schofield have many well-wishers there.”
“We—” I cleared my throat lest my voice break. “Paris is lovely.”
“Indeed it is,” said Lady Sutton with vigor. “Rome can rival it, I promise. Don’t trouble yourself with the gossips. I will see to it that everything possible is done to alert the local authorities to the true state of affairs.”
To do everything is difficult, indeed, impossible. To do everything possible is a very different thing. I dared to press Lady Sutton. “May I hope Lord Sutton will use his authority on behalf of my husband and cousin? Their safety is my one concern.”
Lady Sutton looked disappointed in me. “I cannot promise anything on Lord Sutton’s behalf. That is not my place. Only rest assured that he will be informed.”
“Informed,” said Mrs. Montgomery with a touch of dryness, “and perhaps enlightened.”
I could see I had won them over. The promise of help was genuine.
I thanked Lady Sutton profusely and rose to take my leave. As I made my good-byes, at the moment my attention was most closely fixed upon Mrs. Montgomery, she lifted her hands a little so that I could see the piece of work she held in her lap. I had known since my first glance at her that she had been knitting. Now I could see the nature of that knitting. Crafted of undyed wool, it was patternless, almost shapeless. A twig had been worked into the stitches, one end of it tied with a bit of gold thread.
I met Mrs. Montgomery’s sharp eyes. She smiled at me and gave me a little nod, as if of encouragement. As if to say, take heart.
I took my leave then, and I think I swept out of the room with some dignity. I am at my least clumsy when I am most distracted, and the suspicion—or, rather, certainty—that Mrs. Montgomery is one of Lady Sylvia’s old conspirators is enough to distract anyone.
Later
As it is after midnight, and still no word from the authorities, I count this as the second night Thomas and I have been parted.
Mountjoy can’t have disappeared without a trace. James sends word that the authorities—all the authorities—are cooperating in the search. I think it is inevitable that word will come. But when?
I have put on Thomas’s dressing gown over my nightgown. It smells like him. If I am careful to pick up my skirts, I don’t trip over the hem, or at least not often, no matter how I pace. Just touching it helps comfort me a little.
25 November 1817
Rome
My room
How provoking! Just as James and Piers found where Mountjoy had been staying and could persuade one of Mountjoy’s servants to tell them the man’s current whereabouts, word comes from Lord Sutton at last with the same news. Mountjoy is a guest at a country house in the vicinity of Nemi. Fortunately, the house is not terribly deep in the country. Nemi is hardly more than twenty miles from here. James is composing a message for the runner to return to Lord Sutton, and I wait only for him as Reardon has finished with my final preparations. Walker stays here in case a message should come.
At last, at last—we can Do Something!
Nemi
From the deposition of Mrs. James Tarleton, &c.
Lord Mountjoy and the Contessa had two coaches waiting at the edge of the Forum. At the Contessa’s orders, her men bundled Thomas and me into one of them, then joined us. The Contessa, Lord Mountjoy, and Theodore took the other coach, and we set off.
I had a brief hope that the spell the Contessa used to make Thomas and me ill would be less effective if the distance between the coaches became long enough, but either her coachmen were skilled enough to prevent a gap opening or the spell itself had a long range, for I did not notice any variation in how dreadful I felt. The coach rattled steadily along as the shadows grew outside the window.
It soon became clear that wherever we were going, it was not within the bounds of Rome. I think Thomas realized this first; it would explain why he tried to fling himself out of the carriage. He was more thoroughly affected by the spell than I was, however, and our guards had no difficulty in preventing him from leaping. On the whole, I think this was probably a good thing, as the coach was traveling rapidly enough that I doubt he could have escaped serious injury had he succeeded.
The twilight deepened, but the coach slowed only slightly. The pace at which we were traveling would have made me a trifle nervous during broad daylight, as our experience of Italian roads had not left me with a favorable impression. At night, even with the full moon, it added even more to my discomfort, though it did occur to me that a minor accident might provide one of us with an opportunity to escape. No such event occurred, however.
Hours later, the coach slowed at last. The wheels clattered over some sort of pavement, and we stopped. Thomas and I were dragged out. I had a confused impression of a long, lumpy building with pale stone columns shining in the moonlight; we stood in a sort of courtyard at the front.
The Contessa came to join us. Even by moonlight her face showed signs of strain. She snapped more orders at her men, and they stripped Thomas of his coat (which proved an unexpectedly difficult task for them, as Thomas favors the same sort of close tailoring Mr. Brummell brought into fashion). They then proceeded to search us both.
When she was satisfied that neither of us carried anything that might be useful, the Contessa waved her men toward the left wing of the building. They dragged us off and locked us in an exceedingly dark room. Almost as soon as the lock turned in the door, I began to feel better. A moment later, Thomas grunted.
“I was wondering when she was going to run down,” he said a bit breathlessly.
“The Contessa?” I said.
I sensed, more than saw, Thomas’s nod. “Keeping that spell going for so long has to have drained her. She won’t be in any condition to repeat the performance for a day or two.”
“So if we can escape, she won’t be able to stop us. Not with that spell, anyway,” I said, and yawned. “That’s another good thing, then.”
“Another?”
“It’s obvious now that the Conte and Contessa were in league with Sir Hilary, right from the start. Unless you think it was some other spell that someone used on us when Sir Hilary held us up outside St. Denis and took the Sainte Ampoule.”
“No, it was the same spell all right. And she won’t have a chance to use it on me again, if I have anything to say about it.” Thomas’s voice was grim. “Stay where you are for a minute, so I don’t have to worry about tripping over you.”
Thomas moved away from me in the darkness, and I heard him fumbling his way around the walls. From the sounds, the room was much larger than I had expected. After a moment, I heard a crash.
“What was that?” I said.
“I barked my shins on a box,” Thomas replied. “There are a dozen of them over here; we seem to be in a storeroom of sorts.”
I yawned again. “Is there anything you can do about the door?”
“As soon as it’s light, I can try to—”
“In that case, I’m going to sleep,” I said firmly. “I don’t suppose there’s anywhere in here that’s likely to be more comfortable than anywhere else?”
“If they stored any bedding or blankets, I haven’t found them,” Thomas replied. “Try over here next to the wall.”
I staggered toward his voice without any major mishap, and curled up beside one of the crates Thomas had stumbled over. It was cold and hard, but I was extremely tired. I barely had time to wonder whether I would be able to fall asleep under such conditions, when I had done so.
When I woke, I thought at first that it was very early in the morning, for though there was light, it was quite dim. Once I was fully alive to my surroundings, I realized that I had mistaken the situation. The room we were in had but a single window, hardly more than a slot high up on the wall and deeply set, which barely let in enough light to examine our surroundings.
The room was quite large and long. There were two doors along the wall where we had entered; the window was in the center of the wall opposite. Above were the beams that held up the roof. An occasional soft cooing made it clear that doves or pigeons had built a nest there. A stack of ancient wooden boxes leaned against the shorter wall. In one place, the lowest box appeared to have rotted through, causing several others to collapse in a tumble across the floor.
Thomas was curled up next to the door, but he came awake as soon as I stirred. He brushed at his rumpled coat briefly, before giving it up as a hopeless task. “No one has been by since they dumped us in here,” he said. “Not even to offer a bit of breakfast. Though it’s nearer to lunch now, I think.”
“No wonder I’m hungry,” I said. “Do you think they mean to starve us?”
“I doubt it,” Thomas replied. “The Contessa, Mountjoy, and young Daventer had the same late night we did, remember. And they have better beds. They’re probably all still asleep. The servants won’t make a move until someone gives them orders, and the Conte isn’t likely to give any until he’s heard the full story from his wife and Mountjoy. Which he won’t get until they wake up.”
“You are probably right,” I admitted. “Though I wish you weren’t. The question is, how soon will they get here? “
Thomas frowned at me, opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. He stared a moment longer, his expression fading from irritation into thoughtfulness, before he said, “Do you get it from Kate, or does she get it from you?”
“What? Oh, don’t waste time. If you can’t manage a guess when our captors will be back, just say so. I thought perhaps your experience in these matters would make you a better judge of what was likely.”
“What has James been telling you?”
“Very little, in the way of actual information,” I said absently. I squinted up at the window. It looked as if it might be just possible to wiggle through it, if I could get up to it in the first place. “Mostly it’s been hints. Do you think you can lift me up to that window, or had we better move some of those crates and try climbing on them?”
“I’ll lift,” Thomas said.
“If you hear someone at the door while I’m up there, don’t be chivalrous,” I said. “We don’t want them to suspect anything. Just drop me.”
“It will be my very great pleasure,” Thomas said politely.
“I rather thought it might,” I said.
We arranged ourselves under the window. Our first attempt was awkward and unproductive. Then Thomas had the happy idea of tossing me up as if I were mounting a horse. He made a stirrup of his hands, and as I stepped in it, he pushed me up until I could grasp the window ledge.
That was the theory. In the event, Thomas lifted with enough enthusiasm that my entire head cleared the ledge, giving me a clear view of the entire opening. The ledge narrowed toward the outside of the wall; a three-year-old child might perhaps have wriggled out, but no one of adult size could possibly manage it. I sighed and stepped down.
“Nothing to grab hold of?” Thomas said.
“No point in grabbing,” I replied, and explained.
“Then it’ll have to be the door. I was hoping for another solution. If we do manage to get out that way, anyone looking out of the villa will see us immediately.”
“I know, but it can’t be helped,” I said. “Can you do anything with the lock?”
“Credit me with some sense,” Thomas said. “I looked at it before you woke up. It’s old and rusty; I’m amazed they can manage it with a key. I’m not sure I could pick it even with the best tools from the heart of the London rookeries.”
“I meant magically,” I said.
Thomas shook his head. “Not a hope. It’s iron—not amenable to minor spell casting. And even if I could work up something major without any ingredients, the Contessa at least would surely sense it.”
“Well, let’s see if there’s anything useful in these boxes,” I said.
Half of the boxes were empty; the rest contained moldering sacks of grain that fell apart at a touch. Even the wood was damp and soft with rot. “This is disgraceful,” I said. “It’s clearly been years since anyone even looked in this storeroom.”
Thomas looked amused. “It’s as well for us that you’re right. The wings of these villas were meant for keeping animals. I’m just as glad none of them has been in residence lately.”
“Do you suppose the Conte—”
Just then a rattle of keys at the door announced someone’s arrival. As we turned, it swung open, and Theodore Daventer entered, with the Contessa’s burly footmen on either side. “Mrs. Tarleton, Lord Schofield, I am so very, so very sorry!” he stammered. “There’s been some dreadful mistake.”
“You’re right about that, my boy,” Thomas said.
Theodore’s eyes were on me, all apologetic. “My uncle didn’t understand. As soon as I found out, I told him… You will come and see him now, so he can explain?”
“Have we a choice?” I said. “Besides being locked up again in this stable?”
“It isn’t a stable,” Theodore said. “Not for fifty years or more, the Contessa said. And it really is all a mistake, I promise. Just come and talk to Uncle William, and we’ll get everything straightened out.”
I was tired, stiff, and cold; my hair and gown were in a dreadful state; I had had little sleep and no breakfast. I ought to have been able to deliver a blistering retort, but I found myself feeling rather sorry for Theodore. Surely, I thought, it would do no harm to do as he asked. And it would at least get us out of the storeroom for a while. I opened my mouth, but Thomas beat me to it.
“Very well,” he said in a bored tone. “Let’s see what excuse your uncle has for kidnapping us.”
“Thank you,” Theodore said in a relieved tone. “Come this way.”
We followed him outside, along the covered walk, back into a tiled courtyard with a small fountain, and up the stairs. Above, we moved along a long hallway lined with crudely designed frescoes depicting a queue of people in more and more peculiar dress. As we walked, I considered the exchange we had just had, and the more I considered it, the odder it seemed. I did not think it wise to comment on it at the moment, however.
At the end of the hall, Theodore stopped and knocked at a white-painted door. Almost at once the door opened to reve
al Lord Mountjoy. He was frowning and seemed a bit distracted. “There you are, Theodore!” he said in a tone of false heartiness. “And our guests. I’ll just, er, consult with them now. You can run along.”
“I’m not a child, Uncle,” Theodore said.
“No, no, I didn’t mean—” Lord Mountjoy began hastily. With visible effort, he pulled himself together. “Never mind. If you will come in, my lord, Mrs. Tarleton. I’ll talk to you later, Theodore.”
“Don’t forget what I said about explaining,” Theodore said as he turned to leave.
“I won’t,” Lord Mountjoy said with unexpected sincerity.
We went into the room, which seemed to be a sort of study. At first glance everything seemed in order, but a closer look revealed that the expensive brocade of the curtains had been carefully darned along the folds, the bookcase was loosely shelved to give the impression of fullness from an inferior number of volumes, and several large potted plants had been placed in peculiar locations, probably to hide worn spots in the carpet. The desk, though sturdy, was black with age, and while the chairs were similar enough to a casual glance, they did not actually match.
Lord Mountjoy seated himself behind the desk and gestured Thomas and me to chairs in front. “I must begin by apologizing for this… unpleasantness,” he said. “I had nothing to do with it, I promise you.”
“No?” Thomas said with considerable skepticism. “Yet I swear you were right there when the Contessa’s bullyboys dragged us to that coach and shoved us in.”
“I couldn’t do anything about it!” Lord Mountjoy said. “There were circumstances … You don’t understand!”
I nudged Thomas’s ankle with my foot. Much as it might relieve his feelings to say annoying things to Lord Mountjoy, I thought it would be better to learn as much as we could. “Perhaps you could explain, then, Lord Mountjoy,” I said sweetly. “For you know, it all seems very odd to me as well.”
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