Joanne grunted. “It sounds like you exploited the desperate souls of these cursed parts.”
“Aye, for their benefit and mine, I assure you. Exploitation is good, if at least someone benefits. We never robbed from the poor—the poor have nothing to steal! We only took from those who could afford to give, should they have been charitable souls. But most of those with means that you find in these parts are either criminals themselves, or here to truly exploit. You would be shocked at the depravity of some of those I have encountered, that you probably consort with in the King’s Court.”
Joanne stared at her skeptically. “I doubt that.”
Thibault smiled. “Yet here you are, in hiding because those very people have implicated you in a heinous crime that you are innocent of.”
Joanne’s head drooped and her shoulders sagged in defeat. “You’re right, of course. I guess I shouldn’t judge what I don’t understand.”
Thibault patted Joanne’s knee, her voice becoming gentler. “No, you shouldn’t, dear, but we’re all guilty of it from time to time.” She pointed at Thomas. “Take this boy. I could put him to work tomorrow. I have need of someone who can read and write—they are so rare in these parts. He could be making more money in a day than he probably has earned in weeks lying about here, feeling sorry for himself.” She reached out and grabbed his arm. “What do you say, boy? Would you like to come work for me? Lift yourself out of this wretched life you’ve found yourself trapped in?”
The door swung open, David and the dog entering with a blast of frigid air. He closed the door, stomping his feet to warm himself, the distraction saving Thomas from a difficult discussion.
Joanne eagerly turned toward the new arrival. “Do you have news?”
David nodded, taking a seat close to the fire, Tanya lying down beside him, her snout working hard at drawing every scent wafting from the food laid out before them. “I found Sir Marcus and Simon. It is Sir Marcus’ opinion that you should remain here. Although your husband knows you are innocent in this affair, Sir Marcus feels it isn’t safe enough yet for you to travel.”
Thibault cleared her throat. “And am I to remain here as well?”
David reached for a piece of bread. “Yes, both of you are. When I found them, they were being set upon by at least seven men. They barely escaped with their lives. And if they aren’t safe, then none of us are.”
29
De Rohan Residence
Paris, Kingdom of France
“I understand you arrived without horses.”
Marcus bowed as Lord Charles de Rohan entered the room, Simon doing the same. “Yes, M’Lord, this is true. We were accosted on our way here by seven men. They targeted our horses to get us on the ground.”
Charles’ eyes examined them both. “You seem unscathed.”
“We were fortunate they weren’t as skilled as us, M’Lord.”
“Evidently.” He sat behind his desk, not offering them chairs. “You have news?”
“Yes, sir, much has happened today. After I received your message last night, I sent word to my squires to move your wife to safety. I have heard from them, and she is indeed safe.”
“And where is she? Shouldn’t she return here?”
Marcus shook his head. “No, sir, as we were just attacked very near here, I feel it isn’t safe yet for her to return home, however, I’m certain she is relieved to know you no longer think her guilty.”
Charles grunted. “Yes, of course. I just would feel better with her here, where I can protect her.”
“I understand your feelings on the matter, however I ask that you trust me with her safety.”
“Yet here you stand.”
Marcus bowed slightly. “Yes, but she is with trusted men, skilled in battle. She will be safe.” Marcus continued with his update. “We found the residence of the now deceased imposter, Miss Girard. We found little of interest, except where she had been hired, though discovered little of value, as the man she met disguised himself. We returned to the coachman’s, only to discover him dead in his room, visited earlier by a man who again disguised himself.”
“I’m sensing a theme.”
“Yes, sir, unfortunately. We then found the woman who hired them both, as she was being attacked by whom we believe to be the same man.”
“Is she okay?”
“Yes. We’ve moved her somewhere safe until this matter is closed.”
“Where? With my wife?”
“I think it’s best we keep these things to ourselves, in case anyone might be listening.”
Charles frowned, but flicked a hand, signaling Marcus to continue.
“We went to the Court to hear the charges read against your wife and the others, and I spoke on her behalf. I’m not sure if it carried any weight, yet it should be enough to at least cast some doubt on her guilt, perhaps long enough to stem the damage to your reputation, and hers.”
“Anything else?”
“No.” Marcus felt a twinge of guilt, as it was a lie, though a necessary one. He had failed to mention anything said by Lord Victor, this the only hope he still had of making progress in his inquiries.
“So, what do we do next?” asked Charles, clearly not pleased with the progress.
“I’m afraid we’re at a bit of an impasse. Whoever is behind this, has killed all of the witnesses we’re aware of.”
Simon cleared his throat. “Umm, there’s still one.”
Marcus and Charles looked at him. “Who?” asked Charles.
Simon bowed slightly. “Umm, sir, M’Lord, there’s whoever delivered the message yesterday morning, telling of the lady’s crimes.”
Marcus’ eyebrows rose. “That’s right. Somebody had to deliver it, though I doubt that will lead to anyone. Even if we could find out who did deliver the message, they were probably paid in secret by a man wearing a hooded robe.”
Simon shrugged. “Probably, but it’s all we’ve got.”
“Agreed.” Marcus turned to Charles. “We must see the chambermaid, at once.”
He frowned, but rose. “Of course.” He led them down a series of hallways then into the servants’ wing. “I gave her some time to recover from her ordeal. She is free to continue her duties when her mistress returns.” He pointed at a door, a guard standing to one side. “Open it.”
The guard complied, and they entered to find a young woman sitting on the edge of her bed, her cheeks red and her right eye swollen where she had been recently struck.
She leaped to her feet at the appearance of her master, cowering with a dropped chin and rounded shoulders.
“These men have questions for you.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
Marcus stepped forward, making a point to try and keep his voice as gentle as possible, the woman clearly having been through an ordeal. “Beatrice, is it?”
The woman nodded.
“I am Sir Marcus de Rancourt. Your mistress is my cousin through marriage. My sister married Sir Henri de Foix, your mistress’ cousin.”
Her eyes widened. “Then she found him!”
“No, I’m afraid Sir Henri is dead some two years, but she did find me, and is now safe.”
“Where?”
“That is unimportant. I assure you where she is, no one will find her.”
Beatrice stole a glance at her master, standing at the door. “That-that is good. I have been worried about her.”
“No doubt. But in order to help her, I need one question answered.”
“Yes?”
“How did you obtain the note that was left for your master, telling the falsehoods of your mistress’ adultery?”
Her mouth opened to answer, then she hesitated, her eyes narrowing in confusion. “I-I can’t remember! I mean, I didn’t find it, it was given to me.”
“By whom?”
Beatrice grabbed the top of her head, squeezing her arms tight against the sides, moaning. She finally let go, lifting her chin. “Albert, the stable boy, perhaps?” She threw her hands u
p. “I’m sorry, it’s all a blur! Everything that happened yesterday is so muddled, I-I really can’t say for certain. I know it was one of the staff, and I know I met with Albert, because, well, I asked him to help my mistress, umm, escape.” She glanced over at her master, still terrified.
Charles raised a hand, a slight smile on his face. “It’s okay, all is forgiven.”
Her tense shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, M’Lord.” She turned back to Marcus, slightly more at ease. “I’m sorry, sir, but the stable boy is the only person I remember from yesterday morning. I can’t say for sure it was him, but it must have been. Surely I’d remember if it weren’t, wouldn’t I?”
Marcus smiled. “One can never be certain in the heat of the moment what one will remember when things are once again calm.” He turned to Charles. “Where can we find this stable boy?”
“I should think the stables.”
Marcus smiled at the veiled insult. “Then, please, show us the way. Perhaps he holds the answer we seek.”
30
Palais de la Cité
Paris, Kingdom of France
Lord Victor de Courtenay hurried from the clerk’s office, the guest list for the jousting competition tucked neatly inside his tunic. Acquiring the list hadn’t been hard, only a few coins needed to expedite the process and assure secrecy. He was certain the Templar knight that had requested it, suspected that the name of the man behind the unfolding scandal was on it, and he tended to agree it was a possibility.
It had all been prompted by his own cane, which could only mean they suspected someone of being involved who also required one.
And the list definitely contained many who did.
Since their conversation earlier in the day, he had found himself regarding anyone employing a cane with suspicion, and it had left him on edge for too many exhausting hours.
But now he had the list, and a short ride home would have it out of his hands, and into those of Sir Marcus.
His horse was brought to him, and he dismissed the boy as several colleagues from the Court approached. With the horse between them, he noted the ambassador had an ornate cane, and remembered he had been at the games.
It sent his heart racing.
He tucked the pages containing the list underneath the saddle, his horse protesting for a moment, then stepped out into plain view. “Mr. Ambassador, a pleasant day, is it not?”
The ambassador smiled and bowed. “It is that, isn’t it? Lord Victor, I would speak to you about your conversation with the Templar knight that injected himself into the Court’s affairs earlier today. Sir Marcus, I believe?”
Victor nodded, tensing. “Yes, I believe that was his name.”
“What business did you have with him?”
Victor smiled pleasantly. “I hardly think it is any of your concern, though there’s no harm in telling you. I merely wished to congratulate him on his actions of several weeks ago.”
“Ahh, yes, it was quite the scandal, was it not? The Court has spoken of little else until today.”
Victor chuckled. “Too true, too true.” He made to round his horse. “This has been pleasant, my good sir, however I must beg my leave of you, as I have an impatient wife who I know has been faithful to me.”
The ambassador laughed, then held out a hand, taking Victor by the shoulder. “And what of your business with the clerk?”
Victor’s heart pounded as the ambassador’s two companions stepped closer. “Now I know that is none of your concern.” He stared down at the hand. “I’ll ask you to unhand me, sir.”
The ambassador smiled, then abruptly removed his hand, taking a step back. “I believe you are up to something, sir, something that you should have left alone.”
Victor knew this was it, that his time on this earth was done, but he was determined his death would not be in vain. He smacked his horse on the hindquarters, and it whinnied in surprise then bolted. He turned to face his accosters, drawing his sword.
The ambassador smiled. “I accept your challenge.” He motioned to his companions. “And so do they.”
31
De Rohan Residence
Paris, Kingdom of France
“Albert, these men have questions for you.”
The young man lurched forward, his shoulders rounded, his head down, as he avoided eye contact with his master. “Y-Yes, sir.”
“And when they’re done, prepare two horses for them. They’re in need.”
“Y-Yes, sir, I-I’ll try to find some.”
“Don’t try, my boy, do!”
“Y-Yes, sir.”
Marcus bowed slightly at Charles. “Thank you for your generosity, M’Lord. We’ll have them returned once we resupply at a Templar post.”
“Of course, of course.”
Marcus turned to Albert, the stable boy. “You know Beatrice, your mistress’ chambermaid?”
Albert’s cheeks flushed, and he giggled. “Umm, yes?”
“She says you gave her a letter yesterday morning, and told her it was for your master.”
Albert’s eyes widened and he rapidly shook his head. “Oh, no, I gave her no such letter.” He paused, his eyes darting toward Charles. “I, umm, well, she umm, did come to see me about a horse for Lady Joanne. She, umm, asked me to keep it quiet.” His head spun toward Charles, his eyes wide with terror and tears. “I-I didn’t want to, sir, but she said it was approved by you, but that I shouldn’t tell you if asked. It confused me, sir! I-I’m sorry if I failed you.” His shoulders slumped.
Charles patted him on the back. “You didn’t, my boy. You should always provide for your mistress’ safety. But you say there was no note?”
Albert shook his head. “No, sir, none.” He glanced at Marcus. “But I’m rarely near the gate. Perhaps someone else? Perhaps she’s simply confused? She did seem in quite the state.”
Charles frowned. “Very well. Thank you, Albert. Now see to those horses.”
“Y-Yes, sir.” Albert bolted.
Marcus turned to Charles. “I think it’s time we gathered your entire staff and ask them directly, rather than do this one at a time.”
Charles nodded, though reluctantly. Marcus could understand the man’s hesitation. There was little doubt the entire household knew what had happened, and of what his wife was accused.
And it had to be embarrassing.
Though from his experience, those in positions like Lord Charles, rarely cared what those beneath them thought.
32
De Courtenay Residence
Paris, Kingdom of France
“Something’s wrong!”
Gerard stopped what he was doing, brush in midair as he held the lead for one of the master’s many fine horses. The ado was coming from the main gate to the estate, and he hurried to return the massive beast to its stall so he could see what was happening.
“Get the mistress!”
His eyes widened. Though he was still young, in all his years, he had never heard the lady of the house called for in such a panic.
Something truly horrible must be going on.
He slapped the horse gently on the hindquarters, and it hurried forward the final few steps into the stall. He yanked it closed, making sure it was locked, then sprinted toward the courtyard, his eyes wide with excitement, hoping he hadn’t missed whatever was transpiring.
As he came out into the failing light of the early evening, he skidded to a halt, spotting a number of the staff gathered around the master’s horse.
What are they all excited about?
The mistress rushed down the steps, accompanied by her entourage, her face one of business, and he had to admit it was odd to see her at this hour. The master usually came home around now from the palace, and she’d be inside preparing for dinner. Their greetings never took place outside.
The master!
Lord Victor wasn’t among those gathered around the horse. His eyes narrowed further as he struggled to see him through the crowd, and as it parted for the mistress, h
e was sure he wasn’t there.
Then where is he?
“It arrived like this?” demanded the mistress.
“Yes, M’Lady. Without a rider.”
She pointed at someone. “Send a runner to the Court to check on my husband. And bring a spare horse. I’m sure this one simply got away and made her way here. No need to panic. She’s made the ride thousands of times and knows her way.” She gave the steed a gentle pat on the neck. “Now everyone, back to work, we won’t worry until there’s something to worry about!”
The crowd broke, and somebody sprinted past him for the stables, no doubt the runner ordered. He stepped forward and took the lead of his master’s horse from one of the guards, and led her back to the stable, noticing her nose kept turning to the left, as if she were trying to scratch herself where the saddle was.
“What is it, girl, is something bothering you?”
The horse snorted as they entered the stable. He tied her lead to a post, then proceeded to remove the saddle. A bundle of papers fell to the ground.
“What’s this?” He picked up the pages, staring at what was written on them, the two columns of letters on each page nothing but chicken scratches to him. “Did someone stick this under your saddle? No wonder you ran away. The bastards.” He tossed the pages into the corner, cursing, the horse snorting with what sounded to him to be satisfaction.
He proceeded to brush her down, paying particular attention to the area where the papers had irritated her. “There, there, girl, you’re okay now. We’ll get you all settled, and you’ll be all better in no time.”
He glanced at the papers in the corner as the runner left with two horses, the question of what had happened to his master forgotten.
The Templar Detective and the Parisian Adulteress Page 10
