Behind the Mask (House of Lords)

by Brooke, Meg

  “Yes,” Eleanor said.

  “It is a unique costume,” the baroness observed.

  Eleanor was certain she blushed. “I have always preferred to ride astride, and I can only do so in the country,” she said. She would hate for the princess to think she went about London in such an outfit.

  But Victoria merely smiled. “That is very sensible,” she said. Then she turned and held out her hand for her governess. “Well, Lehzen?”

  The baroness took the little princess’s hand, and they went down the stairs together. Eleanor watched them go, wondering if this was another rule in the famous Kensington System, that Victoria had to have her hand held as she went down the stairs. What strange creatures women became once they had children, she thought. Certainly having borne a child who became the heir to the British throne had changed the Duchess of Kent, made her more protective and suspicious. Eleanor wondered if, when she had children, she would be the same.

  What would it be like, she wondered, to have a child with Colin? What sort of father would he be? She had seen Clarissa’s husband playing with their twins, and the way Charles eagerly anticipated the birth of his child. Would Colin be the same? Once again, Eleanor found herself wishing she knew her husband better. Then she might know what to expect from him.

  Perhaps her best opportunity to understand him was waiting for her in the salon. Eleanor sighed and rang for Lily.

  It took the better part of an hour to ride back to the great house and return to collect Strathmore’s body on a cart. Colin sent Crawley along with the cart into Porter-on-Bolling. He had business at the great house, and it could not be delayed if the rest of his plans for the day were to succeed.

  After leaving his horse in the stableyard Colin went down the servants’ stairs again, withdrawing from his pocket the single object he had collected from Strathmore’s body, along with the little scrap of white cloth he had found in the assassins’ campsite.

  Udad was sitting calmly on his pallet, leaning back against the wall. Colin crouched down beside him and held out his hand. “Do you recognize these things?” he asked.

  Lifting his hand with great effort, Udad reached for the cloth. “This I have not seen before,” he said, “but it say, ‘and give me strength in my great...’” he searched for the word, “‘in my great work’. It is part of a prayer.”

  “You read Arabic?”

  Udad nodded. “Before my family run out of money, I go to school with Usem.”

  “And after?” They were straying from the topic Colin had hoped to discuss, but he was curious.

  Shaking his head sadly, the man said, “When there no more money, I come home, join Serraray. They pay.”

  “I see,” Colin said, though in truth he was horrified by the idea of a young man being forced into such a profession by poverty. “And this?” he asked, holding out the vial.

  Udad took it. “This I know,” he said. “This is from the White Hand. How you get it?”

  “It was found on the body of Mr. Strathmore,” he said.

  “He...is dead?”

  Colin nodded grimly.

  “Praise Allah,” Udad said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. “I am free. And the Tuareg?”

  “We have not found him.”

  Udad opened his eyes again, but his stare was fixed on the far wall. “He is danger.”

  “I understand, Mr. Udad. We will do everything we can to protect the princess. But one man alone can hardly breach the defenses we have set up.”

  “Let us hope not,” Udad said, not sounding convinced. But then he looked up at Colin. “I am sorry. You...you trust that man, he who was the White Hand?”

  Colin nodded again. “He fooled us all.”

  “Yes,” Udad said.

  Colin had known that Udad would confirm his suspicions, and still it was a blow to hear that the man he had trusted had been a traitor all the time. He stood back up, putting the vial in his pocket.

  “Please, what happen to me now?”

  Colin frowned. “I am going to try to help you, if I can. But I must work quickly. Thank you for your help.”

  “It is my...my pleasure,” Udad said, bowing his head.

  Colin went upstairs to find his wife. She would not be pleased when she heard what he planned.

  It did not take Eleanor long to dress, and as soon as she was finished she went down to the salon, where her mother-in-law was already waiting, an embroidery hoop on her lap. Princess Victoria and Lehzen were seated across from her, the princess chatting amiably, but they all turned as Eleanor entered. “Oh, Lady Pierce,” the princess cried, her doll-like face breaking into a smile, “you do clean up well.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” Eleanor said.

  Lady Townsley smiled. “Come and sit beside me, dear.” Eleanor obeyed, and for a moment she stared across at the princess and her governess, trying to find the words to explain that her new mother-in-law wished to interrogate her. There didn’t seem to be a polite way to say it.

  Finally, Lehzen cleared her throat. “We will leave you. I am sure you have much to discuss.” Then she held out her hand for her charge, who took it obediently and followed her out into the drawing room.

  Lady Townsley smiled as she watched them go, then looked down at the hoop, the needle rising and falling gracefully in her hand. “She is such a lovely child,” she said at last. “I pray that she has a few more years to grow up before...well, before the inevitable happens.”

  “As does everyone else, except perhaps her mother,” Eleanor commented wryly.

  “You will have to be careful with remarks like that, Eleanor,” Lady Townsley said, not taking her eyes off her needle. “When you are the wife of a...whatever Colin is, what you say is taken seriously.”

  Eleanor bit back a caustic remark. Of course she knew that she would have to guard her words carefully when she was in Brussels. She understood what was expected of the wife of a diplomat. But she did not want to appear uncouth, and so she said nothing.

  “I understand from your mother that you spend much of the year in London.”

  When had Lady Townsley had time to speak to her mother? “Yes,” Eleanor said, “I have found a great many things there to keep me occupied.”

  “Oh?”

  She should not have said that. Now she would have to tell her about the Knightsbridge School. “My friend Cynthia Bainbridge—”

  “The Duchess of Danforth?”

  “Yes. Anyway, she and her husband purchased a house in Knightsbridge this spring, and we are in the process of converting it into a school for indigent children.”

  “How noble,” Lady Townsley said flatly, as though she did not really mean it. “Who is ‘we’?”

  “Clarissa Rennick, Imogen Bainbridge, Cynthia and I,” Eleanor answered.

  Lady Townsley nodded thoughtfully. “Do you know the Earl and Countess of Stowe well?”

  “Lord Stowe was a childhood friend of my brother’s.”

  “I see. What will you do about the school, now that you are planning to go to Brussels?”

  Eleanor could not stop the sigh that escaped her lips. “I will have to give up the work, I suppose.”

  “That is a shame,” Lady Townsley said, “when it means so much to you.”

  Nodding thoughtfully, Eleanor said, “My place is beside Colin.”

  “Of course, dear. You will be a dutiful wife to him, I am sure. But with a man like Colin, a man that devoted to his work, it is easy to get lost in the background. You must not forget about yourself, my girl.”

  Eleanor stared at her. Was she suggesting that Eleanor assert herself in her marriage? That she pursue the things that made her happy? It was exactly the opposite of what she had expected Lady Townsley to say. But perhaps she was right. Perhaps there was a middle ground.

  Just then, Colin appeared in the doorway, still dressed in his riding clothes, his face very pale. “Good morning, mother,” he said. “Eleanor, may I speak with you a mome
nt?”

  Eleanor looked over at her mother-in-law, who was still focused on her embroidery. “Of course,” she said, rising and following Colin into the library. “What is it?” she asked when he had closed the doors behind them. “What’s happened?”

  He leaned on the table and crossed his arms over his chest. “Simon Strathmore is dead,” he said quietly. “I found his body out on the flats this morning. He was thrown from his horse.”

  Eleanor went to him, taking one of his hands in hers. “I’m sorry, Colin,” she said. “I know you trusted him.”

  He looked up at her, and she saw the doubt in his eyes, the shame at having been taken in by the man. She felt the pain right along with him.

  “You cannot be blamed for his treachery,” she insisted.

  Looking away, he said bitterly, “I should have seen it. I should have known. But at least now I know for certain what he was,” he added, opening his hand to reveal a thin glass vial. “This was in his pocket.”

  Eleanor took it and held it up to her face, inhaling. Valerian. The scent was unmistakable. She had not known it could be used as a poison, but in large enough doses...well, anything was possible. “He cannot hurt anyone ever again,” she said. “That is the important thing. You did that.”

  “No,” he said, “his own recklessness did that. I had nothing to do with it.”

  For a moment they were both silent. Eleanor felt helpless; there was nothing she could say to make him see what he had done for her and her family and the princess. At last, hoping to take his mind off his frustration, she asked the question that had been at the back of her mind for days. “What will happen to Mr. Udad?”

  Colin frowned and ran a hand over his face. “I must ride to London today to see Viscount Palmerston. I am hoping to secure some sort of safe passage for the boy, but it must be done quietly.”

  “Of course,” she said, shuddering to think what might happen if the more hawkish members of the Foreign Office discovered that one of the terrorists who had plotted to kill Princess Victoria was still in British custody. He would be executed, certainly, and he did not deserve that. She doubted most of His Majesty’s government would agree with her, but she was glad Colin did. “But...must you go today?”

  He nodded resolutely. “I hope we will be able to leave for Brussels within a few days, Eleanor. It must be now.”

  “A...a few days?”

  “Is that not convenient?” he asked sharply.

  She let go his hand and stepped away. “I had thought I would have a little more time to...to prepare.”

  “You will learn to always be prepared to depart quickly,” Colin said. “Things move fast in my world. You’ll get used to it.”

  “Will I?” she asked.

  He groaned. “Eleanor, I don’t have time for this argument now.” He stood and came to her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back for the ball tomorrow night. I promise.”

  She nodded, but did not meet his eyes.

  “Crawley will take care of you all in my absence,” he said. Then he marched out of the room, leaving her to stare after him.

  Was this how it would always be? Would he make a decision and expect her to blindly follow him? She thought of his mother’s advice, that Eleanor should not forget about her own desires, her own dreams, just because she was married to a man who thought only of his work.

  Could she do it? Eleanor had always been the compliant girl, the dutiful daughter. Did she have the strength now to disobey?

  “Eleanor, there you are,” her mother said from the doorway. “Come see the lovely little sketch Maris has made of the princess.”

  Eleanor took a deep breath. “Of course, Mama,” she said. But she stood a moment longer, watching out the window as Colin rode away down the drive.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid, Colin scolded himself as he rode. He had allowed his own frustrations to bleed into his relationship with Eleanor, had snapped at her when it was really himself with whom he was angry.

  He had to focus now. He could not think of her, could not worry about what she was feeling when there was so much on the line. The question she had asked was the same one that had been rattling around in his brain for some time. He was convinced that Meddur Udad was little more than a pawn, a boy who was the victim of a stronger personality. But there were few men who would agree with him, and fewer still who would help him. There was little time if he meant to save the boy. He had to see Viscount Palmerston now, before word got out that Udad was still in their custody.

  When he stopped to change horses he took a few moments to stretch his legs, and as he did he realized that the little village green was familiar. Here he had strolled with Eleanor, little more than a week ago. Mama says I must convince my husband to take me on a long honeymoon on the Continent, she had said.

  Wasn’t that exactly what he was giving her?

  It wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t. He would be taking her to Brussels, where she would spend a good deal of time on her own until she made some friends in the city. But she was his wife now, and he was the one who was meant to make the decisions for them both.

  It was late afternoon when he rode through the outskirts of the city. When he reached the Foreign Office at Whitehall, however, he was told that Lord Palmerston had gone to Brooks’s, the club to which he and Colin both belonged, though Colin had not set foot in the place in several years. He had joined more because it was a Whig institution, and his father was a staunch Tory. It had given him pleasure to rebel a little. Now, however, he was grateful for his membership. As he left his horse at the corner of St. James’s Street, he passed Lord Anthony Beresford. The Beresford estate bordered Townsley, and Anthony and Colin had grown up wreaking havoc across the Staffordshire countryside. “Colin!” Anthony called, smiling and shaking his hand. “When did you return to the country?”

  “Last week,” Colin said, realizing as another gentleman tipped his hat in passing that the hope he had cherished of sneaking quietly in and out of London had been rather extraordinary.

  “Have you been visiting your parents at Townsley?”

  “No,” Colin said. There was no hope of concealing his activities at Sidney Park—Anthony would be offended if he refused to answer any questions, and there was no harm in telling him at least part of the truth, so he added, “I have been in Norfolk.”

  “Norfolk? You didn’t happen to see Viscount Sidney while you were there, did you? Sidney Park is in Norfolk, isn’t it?”

  Colin had not realized that Anthony knew Leo, though he supposed they were both in the Lords together, and Leo had always been the sort of person who knew absolutely everyone within even the remotest corners of his social sphere. “It is,” Colin admitted. “I was there, in fact.”

  “Whatever for?” Anthony asked as Colin led him into the club. If he was going to tell his friend about his marriage, he wanted to do it indoors, at least, and not in the middle of the street.

  “I’ve married his sister,” Colin said as the door closed behind them.

  “What?” Anthony cried, rather more loudly than Colin thought was necessary. Several men were milling about the corridor at this time of day, and they all turned to stare. “Not one of the twins?”

  “No,” Colin said, “the elder sister, Eleanor, is the new Lady Pierce.”

  “Bloody hell,” Anthony murmured. “I always thought she had rather too much brain behind all that beauty, but I suppose that’s ideal for you, isn’t it? But my goodness, you work fast. Do you know, I think she’s turned down four different fellows since her come-out.”

  “Three,” Colin corrected him.

  “This calls for a drink,” Anthony said cheerily, completely oblivious to Colin’s cool tone.

  But Colin did not follow him towards the members’ sitting room. “If you’ll excuse me, Anthony, I must find Viscount Palmerston on some official business.”

  “Of course,” Anthony said, suddenly serious again. “He’ll be back in the library, I’ll wager.”<
br />
  Colin thanked him and went back through the corridor and into the quieter part of the large club building. Sure enough, Viscount Palmerston was sitting in a large wingback chair near one of the windows, a newspaper spread across his lap. He looked up as Colin entered, but he did not rise or even smile. When Colin saw the man sitting beside him he understood why. It was Karl Lindstrom, a Swedish transplant who worked in the Foreign Office. If Colin wasn’t mistaken, Lindstrom had been one of the men out in the corridor. Had he already passed the gossip along to their employer?

  As Colin drew nearer, Lindstrom rose and took his hand, looking down on him from his great height. The towering Swede was one of the biggest men Colin had ever met, and he never failed to feel a little intimidated in his presence. “My congratulations, Lord Pierce,” Lindstrom said.

  Colin tried to smile. “Thank you, Lindstrom,” he said calmly. Viscount Palmerston still did not look up.

  “I’ll leave you,” the Swede offered, and with a curt nod he went out into the corridor.

  “Well,” Palmerston said when he had gone. “You’ve had quite the week.” He gestured to the now empty chair. Colin took it obediently.

  “You got the latest dispatch, then?” he asked. He had sent an express the evening before, but it had not contained any of the night’s events.

  Palmerston nodded. “I am sorry I sent Strathmore. He was a promising recruit, but Algeria changed him.”

  “Clearly,” Colin said.

  “You are certain he will not make another attempt?”

  Colin nodded grimly. “You’ll agree with me when you hear what has happened in the last twenty-four hours.” He looked about. The library was empty, and so in hushed tones he related last night’s events and the morning’s discovery.

  When he had finished, Palmerston nodded thoughtfully. Then he folded his paper. “I must apologize, Lord Pierce, for underestimating the seriousness of the threat. It was a grave mistake, one that put many lives in danger. You were right in your advice to me, and I shall not forget it.”

  Colin breathed a small sigh of relief as he realized that he was not, after all, going to be chastised for his failures. “There is one complication that remains,” he said.