The Caged Countess

by Joanna Fulford

  ‘Dear God,’ she murmured. ‘It wasn’t an i it was an e...’

  Across the room the man reached into the left side of his coat as though to touch something there, or reassure himself of its presence. Then he began to walk towards the group surrounding the Duke. With pounding heart Claudia began to push her way through the throng to intercept the advancing figure. She had no idea what she was going to do only that she had to stop him somehow.

  The Earl looked round and then stared at his wife’s retreating figure in silent bemusement. Then he followed the line of retreat and saw the liveried figure ahead. Just for a moment the man looked over his shoulder. Anthony frowned, experiencing a vague sense of recognition. As he watched, the man disappeared from view into the anteroom and shortly afterwards, Claudia reached the door. Then she disappeared from view as well. Curiosity gave way to a sudden sense of unease. He had no clear idea why, only gut instinct. His expression became intent as he began to move after them.

  Claudia never took her eyes off her quarry. Then, as though sensing himself observed, he paused and darted a swift look around. As he did so his gaze met hers for a moment and with a jarring sense of shock she knew who he was. The hair was a different colour and he had grown the beard, but it was the same man. The implications hit her like a punch in the stomach. She had no time for reflection because in the same instant he recognised her too and turning abruptly, retraced his steps. With pounding heart Claudia hurried after him, threading her way through the other guests who continued to laugh and talk unawares. Her quarry slipped out of the ballroom and into the anteroom that joined it to the main house. For a moment she lost him among the guests gathered there, craning her neck to see over uniformed shoulders. Then she spotted the figure again, turning aside through an open doorway into one of the downstairs rooms at the far end of the passageway.

  Claudia made her way through the groups of people in the anteroom and entered the main house, reaching the corridor a few moments later. It was quiet here and the sound of voices faded as she reached the room in question. The door was open and the room beyond dimly lit. It was also unnaturally quiet after the noise of the ballroom. Glancing through the crack between the door and the jamb she took in a book case, cabinet, couch, and several chairs. It appeared to be a small sitting room. It also appeared to be empty. She hesitated. Had she mistaken the door after all? Tiptoeing across the threshold she stopped and looked around. Then her gaze fell on the open casement opposite and she swore under her breath.

  She ran to the window and looked out, left and right, but the small side street beyond was deserted. She sighed. Behind her the door closed softly and all the hairs prickled on the back of her neck. She spun round to find herself staring down the barrel of a pistol. Her startled gaze moved past the weapon to the man who held it.

  ‘Alain Poiret. I knew I was right.’

  ‘I was really hoping we wouldn’t meet again, Claudine. As it is, I’m going to have to make this short.’

  ‘Shoot me and your plot dies as well. You’ll have every man on the premises after your blood.’

  ‘I don’t intend to shoot you,’ he replied.

  In heart-pounding silence she saw him pocket the pistol. Instinctively she edged sideways, hoping to dart past him and reach the door. He followed the movement. Claudia turned to flee but not quite fast enough. He launched himself after her and seized hold of her, flinging her sideways across a couch. Half crushed by his weight and fighting for breath, she clawed at his face, raking her nails down his cheek. He swore and hit her. Her cheek burned like fire. Then a large hand closed round her throat and squeezed. Claudia tried to scream but all that emerged was a faint croaking sound. Scrabbling fingers tried to pry his hand loose but they made no impression. Her face suffused with blood. Sparks of coloured light danced before her eyes and her eyes widened in silent horror as she fought unsuccessfully to draw breath. She knew that was going to die.

  From somewhere behind them the door was flung open and light from the corridor slashed across the room. The Earl took in the scene at a glance and then rage became incandescent. He strode in. Poiret looked round just too late to avoid the kick aimed at his ribs. It landed hard, eliciting a painful grunt and throwing him off balance. His hold slackened. A second kick forced him to let go. Seconds later a large hand hauled him upright and a clenched fist hit him in the face, flinging him backwards. He slammed into the wall, blood pouring from his nose and lip. Claudia gasped and rolled aside, heart pounding, drawing ragged gulps of air. Groggily, Poiret shook his head and then launched himself at his assailant. The two men flew backwards, reducing a chair to firewood as they crashed to the floor. Claudia scrambled to her feet and leapt out of the way.

  Anthony grunted as Poiret landed on top of him. Moments later large hands closed on his throat. Half throttled, he groped for Poiret’s face, and found it, gouging for the eyes. His opponent’s grip slackened and he rolled aside, grabbing a broken chair leg. Coming up on his knees he swung it hard. Anthony blocked it with his arm, then threw himself sideways as Poiret thrust the jagged splintered wood towards his face. The other man came after him, landing a blow across his back. Anthony swore, grabbed the nearest piece of wood and flung it. It missed, but distracted his opponent long enough to let the Earl find his feet. He seized hold of the chair leg and wrested it from Poiret’s grasp; then hit him with it. As his opponent staggered Anthony’s foot connected with his groin. Poiret cried out and doubled over, sinking to his knees. As he went down Anthony hit him again. His opponent slumped and lay still.

  Claudia staggered across the room and was caught in a strong pair of arms. He held her close, feeling the shuddering sobs that shook her entire body.

  ‘My darling girl. I thought I had lost you.’

  She shook her head, for the moment unable to speak.

  ‘How badly has he hurt you?’

  Drawing another ragged breath she tried again. ‘M-my throat h-hurts a bit.’

  ‘Oh, my love.’ He drew back a little to examine the livid marks there and his brows drew together. ‘I wish I’d killed the scum.’

  She blinked. ‘C-could you repeat that p-please?’

  ‘I wished I’d killed...’

  ‘N-not that p-part. The b-bit before it.’

  His gaze met hers. ‘My love.’

  ‘Yes. It’s j-just you n-never s-said it before, you s-see.’

  Suddenly he did see, all too clearly. ‘I should have. I should have told you often. If I hadn’t been such a damned fool I would have. I love you, Claudia.’

  Her aching throat was accompanied by a sudden sensation of giddiness that had nothing to do with the recent assault. ‘I’m g-glad you do, b-because I l-love you very m-much.’

  He enfolded her in his arms and held her until she stopped shaking. Relief mingled with terror at the thought of what he had almost lost.

  ‘Darling, why didn’t you tell me you’d recognised him?’

  ‘There was no time. When I realised the truth he was already on his way across the room to kill the Duke. I had to intercept him somehow.’

  ‘To kill the Duke?’

  ‘Yes. We were wrong about the words on that scrap of paper. Something you said came back to me. The name wasn’t William. The first vowel was not an i, it was a badly-written e. Not Willi at all, but the first part of Wellington. I didn’t realise it until I saw who Poiret was looking at tonight.’

  ‘Dear God. If he had succeeded it would have thrown the Allied forces into total disarray, to say nothing of the demoralising effect of such a deed. We have some good men but none of them compare to Old Hookey for military strategy.’

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘My love, you have averted a disaster.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  Poiret let out a groan and stirred a little. The Earl eyed him with contempt. ‘So help me I’m mighty
tempted to mete out the same punishment that the brute gave you.’

  ‘No, let the law deal with him.’

  He nodded. ‘I’d best tie him up then before he comes round.’

  He left her long enough to grab the curtain cords and use them to bind Poiret’s hands and feet. Claudia surveyed the process quietly.

  ‘There’s a pistol in his pocket, Anthony.’

  He retrieved it and checked for other weapons. Having done that, the Earl straightened and then reordered his own dishevelled clothing as best he could.

  ‘I need to find Viaud and let him know what’s happened. Can you stay here and guard Poiret till I get back? I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  She nodded. ‘All right.’

  ‘My brave girl.’ He kissed her gently on the cheek and then handed her the pistol. ‘If he tries anything, Claudia, shoot to kill.’

  He left her then and she sank wearily into a chair, trembling with reaction now, scarcely able to believe yet that the whole episode hadn’t ended in disaster. Had it not been for Anthony she’d be dead now. The knowledge sent a shiver down her back.

  Poiret groaned and then opened his eyes. He tried unsuccessfully to move his arms and legs and then realising they were bound, muttered a curse. Lifting his head a little he looked around and then his gaze met Claudia’s. For a second or two neither one spoke. However, in spite of her loathing for the man, there were things she wanted to know.

  ‘Why did you kill Madeleine?’

  For a moment he remained silent and she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he said, ‘By sheer ill chance she saw me in the street and recognised me. I couldn’t risk letting her tell anyone.’

  ‘I see.’ She regarded him with disgust. ‘And what about the whole charade in Paris?’

  ‘My superiors needed me to disappear and the best way was to make it look as though I’d been arrested. It was also an ideal opportunity to smash the British spy ring.’

  ‘But you tipped off Duval. Why?’

  ‘To add to my credibility. It looked better if I helped one or two to escape.’

  ‘Why me?’

  ‘I always had a soft spot for you, Claudine.’

  ‘Is that why you tried to kill me just now? Why you’ve tried twice before?’

  ‘Regrettably, it was necessary. Nothing personal, you understand.’

  ‘Oh, I understand all right. Everyone else was expendable too, weren’t they?’

  ‘That’s the way it is in this business.’ He smiled faintly. ‘Once everyone believed I was dead it meant I could be reincarnated for a far more important mission.’

  ‘The dyed hair and beard had me fooled for a little while.’

  ‘If you hadn’t been here tonight I might have succeeded.’

  ‘You’d never have got out in one piece.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but Wellington would have been dead.’

  ‘Wellington isn’t dead though, and soon he’s going to put paid to Napoleon’s ambitions once and for all.’

  He grinned. ‘We’ll soon see, won’t we?’

  * * *

  A few minutes later Anthony returned. Viaud was with him, along with two others whom she did not know. He looked at Claudia, taking in her rumpled dress and disordered curls and the livid marks on her neck.

  ‘Good heavens. Are you all right, my lady?’

  ‘Yes, just about.’

  ‘What on earth happened?’

  Anthony summarised, then looked at Poiret. ‘We need to get him out of here as discreetly as possible. We don’t need a panic on our hands. The fewer people who know about this the better.’

  Viaud nodded. ‘We’ll take him out the back way.’ He looked at his companions. ‘Junot, go and arrange to have a carriage brought down the side street here, and do it as unobtrusively as possible.’ As the man departed to do his bidding, Viaud glanced at Poiret. ‘It’ll be interesting to discover what this swine knows.’

  ‘He may decide not to talk,’ said Claudia.

  Viaud’s smile was cold. ‘Oh, he’ll talk, my lady. I guarantee it.’

  Poiret surveyed her keenly. ‘Who are you, Claudine? Why does he address you in that way?’

  ‘That need not concern you,’ she replied. ‘Nothing personal, of course.’

  * * *

  After the carriage arrived to take Poiret away, Anthony took his wife in his arms again. ‘Come on, we’ll say goodnight to our hosts and then I’m taking you home.’

  She nodded. ‘I’d better do something about my appearance first or we really will become the subject of scandal.’

  He grinned. ‘I fear you’re right.’

  She straightened her gown and he helped her brush off the dust. Then with his help she re-pinned her hair as best she could. There was nothing to be done about the marks on her neck but it couldn’t be helped.

  ‘Ready to face the world, my love?’ he asked.

  ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’

  He offered her his arm and then they walked together along the corridor towards the anteroom. Long before they reached it a babble of voices greeted them. A surge of people poured from the ballroom doorway. On the stairs and in the hallway, a crowd had gathered, seemingly to take their leave.

  Claudia stared at them in astonishment. ‘Surely the ball cannot already be over.’

  Anthony waylaid a captain of dragoons. ‘What’s happening here?’

  ‘Why, have you not heard? Napoleon has crossed the frontier. Every officer is to report for duty by three this morning.’ He made them a polite bow. ‘If you’ll excuse me I must go.’

  They watched him walk away.

  ‘It has come then,’ said Claudia.

  As the officers prepared to depart the air became charged with tension and excitement. There were handshakes and swift smiling farewells. The mothers and wives and sweethearts to whom they spoke smiled too, at first, but then the polite society masks began to slip and reveal the fear beneath. As she watched the men go, Claudia knew it was the last she would see of some of them. Anthony met her gaze with perfect understanding.

  ‘Come, my sweet. Let’s go home.’

  Claudia went upstairs to retrieve her wrap, hardly aware of the chaos around her. She knew that she wouldn’t sleep this night; that most of the city wouldn’t sleep. The coming battle would be on a scale she could scarcely comprehend. The Allies had their Duke, thank goodness. He would not let the French prevail. For a moment she heard Poiret’s voice. We’ll soon see, won’t we? It was estimated that Napoleon would field over a hundred thousand men. The Coalition forces numbered almost as many. The number of casualties would be huge. How many of these dynamic young officers would be among their number? Determinedly she put the thought aside.

  Having found her wrap she returned to find Anthony with Robert and Sabrina. As the other woman’s gaze met hers Claudia read in it both courage and dread. Her heart went out to her.

  ‘Sabrina, won’t you come and stay with us tonight? Your company would be more than welcome.’

  ‘No, I thank you. Not tonight. However, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘As you will.’

  Falconbridge smiled and held out his hand. Anthony shook it warmly.

  ‘Good luck, Robert.’

  Claudia gave her friend a quick hug and murmured, ‘You know where I am if you change your mind.’

  Sabrina squeezed her gently in acknowledgement. Robert turned to Claudia.

  ‘Look after Sabrina and my son while I’m gone.’

  She summoned a brittle smile. ‘I will.’

  The Colonel laid a hand lightly on his wife’s arm. ‘Come then, my dear.’

  Together they walked away. Claudia watched them go, wondering if she would ever see them together again.

 
She and Anthony made their way to the hall, now a hub of activity as carriages were called for and people hastily took their leave of each other. The normally quiet street was thronged with vehicles and the air reverberating to the clatter of hoofs and rumbling wheels and the din of many voices. It took a while for the carriage to thread its way through the traffic. Neither she nor Anthony spoke, each rapt in private thought.

  * * *

  By the time they reached the house they could hear the distant sound of bugles and drums announcing the gathering of regiments. They stood together on the balcony looking down on the scene below, watching the troops march by, a seemingly endless line of men heading towards the Namur Gate. Above the rooftops the first grey light of dawn began to dissipate the darkness.

  They watched until the last regiment had left. By then it was close on eight o’clock and the now quiet street bathed in early sunshine. The Earl turned towards his wife.

  ‘There will not be any news for a while, my dear. Let’s try to snatch a few hours of sleep.’

  Claudia nodded, recognising the good sense of this. She was weary now, although her thoughts were still in chaos. Somehow she was going to have to try and empty her mind for a while. When news did arrive she wanted to be alert enough to assimilate it.

  * * *

  When she woke it was midday and Lucy informed her that the Earl was already gone out. He returned an hour later. Claudia hurried to meet him. He bent to kiss her and they retired to the salon.

  ‘What news?’ she asked.

  ‘Ney’s force is advancing on Quatre Bras.’

  ‘Quatre Bras? Isn’t that being held by Dutch troops?’

  ‘Yes, but there aren’t enough of them. If they are to hold the crossroads they need reinforcements.’