“Of course, I also plan to attend tonight. Let’s get to work. I believe the easiest and the most likely approach is to follow is the pitches since they obviously have the letter names A to G. You could expand to the rest of the alphabet by saying a low octave is A-G, the next octave is H-N, and so on.”
“But that would mean words with early and late letters would jump big intervals, which is unlikely. It might be better to use flats for the second octave, H-N, and sharps for the third octave O-U, and maybe double sharps for V-Z.”
“You take the first act and I’ll take the second act to see if that pattern is obvious.”
Twenty minutes later, the men agreed that neither could see a pattern using either pitches or changes in key signature.
The waiter approached when they both stood up and stretched. “You gents want anything to eat? Shepherd’s pie is our specialty.”
“We’ll take two and two ales, please.” Michael hadn’t realized how hungry he was, and that he would be foregoing dining out tonight. He’d need sustenance for his own performance.
After a filling meal, they continued their search, but to no avail.
Pudgy sat down and shuffled through the papers. “Perhaps the note in the base line tells which section of the alphabet you are in for the vocal line. For example, an A with a C base note is the letter A, but an A with a G base note is the letter H?” Pudgy asked.
“I’ve already looked at that possibility. It doesn’t exist.”
“You are quick with patterns. Amazing for someone who doesn’t play music.”
“I play a bit. What about using the time signature?”
“I’m now obsessed with finding the pattern before you do. I should be better at this,” Pudgy said.
“A little of the Oxford one-upmanship stirring in your soul?” Michael joked.
“Maybe a little, but it is an intriguing challenge to look at the music from a totally different perspective.”
“One of us should have deduced a pattern by now.” Michael ran his fingers through his hair. “Not to overrate our skills, but we are the best.” Neither was accustomed to failure.
Laughing, Pudgy gathered the music back and handed it to Michael. “Nothing like a bit of modesty.”
Michael stood and shook Pudgy’s hand. “Thank you for the assistance. I really appreciate your help.”
“Damn, I wish we had solved it. And, like you, I’m not used to failing. I will crack this.”
“Pudgy, this is not a game, like at Oxford. You must be careful.”
Chapter Twenty-six
With her feet propped up on an ottoman, Gabby settled back into a giant cushioned chair in Aunt Euphemia’s drawing room at Ashworth House. During the ride back from the party, Aunt Euphemia hadn’t spoken, respectful of Gabby’s need for silence. Gabby’s mind was numb from trying to sort out the truth from the lies in Madame Sauvage’s revelations.
Aunt Euphemia placed a hot buttered crumpet and a pile of ripe strawberries on a plate from the tray before them. She handed Gabby the full plate. “You must eat to maintain your strength.”
Aunt Euphemia sat across from Gabby. “Are you able to talk about your conversation with Lady Sauvage? Or would you prefer for me to tell you what I know of Lady Sauvage and your brother?”
Gabby sat up and then nodded.
“Lady Sauvage and your brother had an affair. I’m not sure the lady’s heart was involved, but for a while they were lovers. The rumor was that your brother ended the affair. And I believe the lady isn’t used to such high-handed behavior. It is possible that what you heard today was the venom of a scorned woman.”
Aunt Euphemia took a big bite of her crumpet. Butter dripped on her chin.
“If you’re wondering how an old woman like myself would know of such goings-on, it was common knowledge in society.” She wiped away the butter with a linen napkin. “Our society is a very small group of people. Quite boring, actually.”
Gabby stared down at her plate, trying to force herself to taste the food that Aunt Euphemia had thoughtfully organized. “Why would Lucien spend time with that woman? She gave me the shudders.”
Aunt Euphemia laughed heartily with her mouth wide open. Seeing the look on Gabby’s face, she stopped immediately.
“My dear, I didn’t mean to offend you. Only enjoying a refreshing moment of innocence. I feel I’ve become quite jaded about men and their lust for women, money, and power.”
“I didn’t know what part I should believe of what she said. Or if it was all lies.” Sipping the hot chocolate that Aunt Euphemia had remembered was her favorite brought back memories of mornings with her mother. She did find a sense of safety enveloping her when in Aunt Euphemia’s company. “She didn’t believe the story of our families being acquainted.”
“You poor thing. So many deceptions whirling around you. It is very difficult to know whom to trust.”
Gabby kept her eyes down on her plate. She didn’t want Aunt Euphemia to realize the truth, that she had considered the grand old lady and her family as a potential threat.
“I’ve been remiss in not sharing the entire truth with you, but with the shocking upheaval of your loss, I didn’t want you to have more upset.”
Gabby stopped, unable to swallow the dry crumpet. She wasn’t sure she could handle any more bad news. She didn’t think there was anything of her life or memory left to destroy.
“Despite the lady’s claims to the contrary, our families are acquainted. I was friends with your dear grandmother. You must understand before the chaos in France, people travelled between our countries frequently.”
“You knew my grandmamma?” Gabby held her breath and waited, afraid of what she might learn next. How could there possibly be bad news about her dear grandmamma?
“Your grandmother was brought as a young debutante to London for a season, anticipating a possible match with the Earl of Falconbridge. Matches between the great families of France and England were common.”
“I didn’t know.” Gabby stared at Aunt Euphemia.
“Of course not, it was before you were born. Your grandmother did not want the match and returned to France and married your grandfather, with whom she was very compatible. Your grandmother was very proud that your mother had made an advantageous match with the marquis.”
Gabby placed her plate on the side table. She couldn’t possibly eat.
“During that season, Delphine and I became dear friends. Your grandmamma was beautiful and popular. She had her pick of beaus and friends. And despite our differences, she was very kind to me when I didn’t “take” with many of the gentlemen. I wasn’t very amenable to twittering and pretending I didn’t have my own opinions.” Aunt Euphemia slapped her knee. “I always was a difficult gel as my father would say.”
Gabby couldn’t imagine Aunt Euphemia and her grandmother as debutantes.
“Delphine and I corresponded. And on a visit to France, I stayed with your grandparents.”
Gabby shook her head. “It is too much to take in.”
“Can you imagine my shock when you arrived at Rathbourne House? I felt my heart would stop.” Aunt Euphemia chortled. “For a moment, I thought I was seeing Delphine’s ghost.”
Gabby smiled faintly. “My mother told me of the resemblance, but I never was able to appreciate the similarities because of the difference in our ages.”
“I’m sure it was difficult to imagine your grandmother as a young woman. Cord and Gwyneth, I am sure, believe I have always looked this way.” Aunt Euphemia patted her sagging jowls. Her voice suddenly turned grave. “Only a few people know what I am about to tell you.”
The air moving in and out of Gabby’s lungs stopped—trapped in worry.
“Your grandmother wrote begging for my help during the beginning of the unrest in Paris. She said she was too old to make the trip but wanted her daughter and grandchildren out of Paris. She had tried to convince your father to leave, but he refused to believe the mob would touch a marquis.”
>
Aunt Euphemia’s voice grew quieter. “I arrived too late, too late to save your parents, but I arranged for you and your brother to escape to your relatives in the country.”
Gabby was speechless with the extraordinary shock. It was extremely dangerous to be in Paris, but the risk to an aristocratic English woman was absolutely deadly.
“Lucien always wondered how our poor relatives in Aveyon were able to coordinate our escape. We learned later that the only way people got away was with hefty blackmail money. Our cousins were very afraid. I was forbidden to speak of our past life or our parents.”
“It was a terrible time, not knowing who could be trusted. But I lost contact with you. I’m missing years of what happened to you after the Terror ended.”
“Lucien stayed with me during the worst months. When the violence was over, he returned to Paris to find out about our estate. I remained in the country with our relatives until Lucien felt it was safe to bring me back to Paris. I was very happy to return and resume my study of music. And for several years, everything was stable, until Napoleon took interest in me.”
“Yes, I can see his motivation. Like your grandmamma, you are a beautiful, gentle woman.”
“Without any forewarning, Lucien whisked me out of Paris in the dark of night to be hidden in a convent. He promised me he would come back and take me to England.”
“And if he could have returned for you, he would have.”
Gabby thought of all the days and months of waiting and hoping for Lucien’s return. How did Aunt Euphemia know of her brother?
“I’m sure you’re wondering why, after your conversation with Lady Sauvage, that I’m now telling you of our connection. I didn’t want to give you any more difficulties before I shared what had transpired with your brother.”
“You know how he died?”
“I know how he became a French spy.”
“Lady Sauvage was right? Lucien was a spy? I can’t believe it. Lucien was very angry, rightfully so, about the changes in France and the murder of our parents. I can’t believe he’d help Napoleon by spying.”
“Your brother had to get his fortune out of France. Not an easy task. This aspect of the story is conjecture on my part. I believe that in exchange for his safe passage to England, and in order to take the majority of his fortune with him, your brother made a deal with the Foreign Minister, Talleyrand. And unlike Napoleon Bonaparte, who is only interested in his domination of the world, Talleyrand saw the benefit of having someone of your brother’s caliber spying for France.”
Gabby’s body started to shake. If her brother was a spy, would she be sent to prison? England was at war with France and her brother was a French traitor. Would she be treated as a spy?
“My dear, it’s been too much for you. You’ve lost all your color.”
Unable to squeeze a single word out for fear it’d be a choking sob, Gabby took a deep breath before she uttered, “I will be sent to prison?”
Aunt Euphemia stood abruptly and sat next to Gabby. She placed her hefty arm around Gabby’s shoulder. “Oh my. I have given you a terrible fright. I’m sorry. After all you’ve endured in France, I can see how you made the assumption. You are not going to prison because of your brother. But now you understand why I have not shared the information. I also don’t believe for a minute that your brother ever told Lady Sauvage of his spying. Which leads us to a very interesting question of how the lady came to the information. But that is for another day.”
“I can’t stay here. I wouldn’t want you or Lady Gwyneth or Lord Ashworth to be associated with me.” Gabby’s heart plummeted to her feet. She’d have to keep her distance from everyone. She had to protect Michael and his family. She had money. She could hide in the English countryside.
Aunt Euphemia spoke in a slow, measured voice. “Gabby, your presence is not a danger to any of us. But most importantly, you are safe in England.”
“But why? My brother was a spy. In France, the association would be enough to imprison you or hang you.”
“I would hope our country is a bit more open-minded about innocent women. But, most importantly, I am not a helpless woman in England. I would never allow anyone to harm you. You are safe here. No prison. I promise. Your appearance in England has appeased my long-suffering grief. I’ve always regretted that I couldn’t save my dear friend’s family. And now you are here. I will never allow anyone to harm you, including the English.”
Aunt Euphemia’s vehement promise washed over Gabby like a fresh spring rain clearing the stagnant air. And like her belief in Michael, she believed Aunt Euphemia’s assurance.
Aunt Euphemia twisted to look at Gabby. “Because of your grandmother and her plea, I worked to help other women and children to escape Paris and the guillotine. Although we couldn’t save your mother, we saved many lives.”
Gabby had heard stories of the bravery and sacrifice of the people who refused to be cowed by the intimidation of the Public Committee. “I wish I could share with Lucien that it was our dear grandmamma’s brave friend who helped us escape the guillotine. He always believed it was relatives on our father’s side.”
“I hope you can now understand why I’ve waited. And I would have waited longer, if it weren’t for Lady Sauvage. There was nothing disrespectable about your brother’s actions. He made every effort to get you away from France and Napoleon. Like all of us during this time of war with plots and deception, he made the best choice he could.”
The burning sensation started behind her eyes and in her throat. Lucien. If she could only thank him for all he sacrificed to take care of her.
Her voice shook. “I wish… When Lucien left me at the convent, I was very angry at being taken away from Paris, my music, my friends, and my mentor. I didn’t get to tell him how much I loved him.”
Aunt Euphemia took Gabby’s hands between her own wrinkled ones. “Your brother knew you loved him. Never doubt that for a minute. Now, you must go for a lie down. You have the opera tonight. Gwyneth is very excited by all the intrigue and the romance.” Aunt Euphemia waggled her bushy eyebrows. “You lift this old woman’s spirit. And tomorrow we’ll have tea and talk about better days. I’ll regale you with stories about your grandmamma as a debutante. And if she could see how you are handling yourself with all these challenges, she would be proud. You come from a courageous stock of French women. Never forget that.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
The carriage stopped at the end of a dark alley in front of the backstage entrance to the Royal Opera House. Only one lantern hung above the small wood lintel for the singers’, musicians’, and workers’ entryway. A marked contrast to the front of the opera house, which was lit with a multitude of burning lanterns and chandeliers in the opulent, mirrored grand foyer.
Lord Ashworth assisted each lady down from the carriage.
A giant of a man, capable of moving the heavy scenery by the looks of his brawny arms and thick neck, stood by the door.
Lord Ashworth nodded to the man. “Crawford.”
“Lord Ashworth. Good to see you again. Haven’t been around backstage for a while.”
Gwyneth twittered. “Yes, Lord Ashworth, explain to the nice gentleman why you haven’t been spending your nights in the pursuit of opera dancers.”
Gabby wondered if Crawford was as familiar with Michael’s name and his pursuit of opera dancers as he was with Lord Ashworth.
Lord Ashworth cleared his throat and took Gwyneth’s arm. “Lady Ashworth, what a wonderful sense of humor.” He bent down and whispered something to Lady Gwyneth who looked up into his eyes, her smiling face suddenly serious and her eyes darkened with longing.
It was Amelia’s turn to harrumph. “Shall we go in?”
Gwyneth pulled her arm away from her husband. “Of course, Amelia. My husband forgets himself.”
Gabby followed the ladies into a small anteroom. A list of the names sat on a wood table positioned next to the door.
Despite the cracked walls and stac
ked boxes lining the long hallway, there was a burst of action. Men hustled back and forth. There was an air of excitement in the preparation for the performance. Ignoring the low thrum of fear vibrating through her, Gabby was still eager for Madame Abney’s performance.
Lord Ashworth had warned the ladies they were to be vigilant regarding their surroundings and the people around them. He gave no other specifics for their behavior during the evening.
Crawford winked at Lord Ashworth. “My lord, I’m to escort the ladies to Madame Abney’s dressing room. Madame doesn’t like gentleman callers before the show. Says it distracts her.”
“I agree with Madame Abney, Mr. Crawford. Men are irritating distractions,” Gwyneth retorted in a too sweet contrite voice.
Lord Ashworth chuckled. “You will pay for that comment, wife.”
Gwyneth grinned back at her husband and said in a saucy tone, “I look forward to my punishment.”
The usually relaxed Lord Ashworth stiffened and his breath came out rushed. Gabby heard him whisper to Gwyneth. “You forget yourself, wife.”
Gwyneth leaned into her husband while he slipped Crawford a coin. “I’ll come back for my wife and the ladies at intermission, Crawford.”
Everything was proceeding according to their plan. Lord Ashworth would pretend to be leaving, but in fact would be backstage observing. Gabby didn’t know how Lord Ashworth would gain access to the backstage and he didn’t volunteer any more information, except that the ladies would be protected at all times. Lord Ashworth hadn’t hinted if he also suspected Madame Abney as a threat.
If Madame Abney was a French spy, Gabby would risk everything to apprehend her to protect her friends.
“Come this way, my ladies.” Crawford pointed down the long hallway. He turned back and spoke over his shoulder to Lord Ashworth who watched their departure. “I’ll take good care of your lady and her friends, my lord.”
“Thank you, Mr. Crawford, for your concern,” Gwyneth said.
A Cantata of Love (The Code Breakers 4) Page 16
